


It's all the little things that make me love you

by pepsicola



Category: South Park
Genre: Arguments and Fights, Being Young and In Love, Childhood, Childhood Friends, Domestic, Everyday Life, Excitement, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Not a lot though, adulthood too, angst sprinkled throughout, but not a lot, cartman's house is really clyde's house, headcanons, i guess some nsfw, liane and cartman live in clyde's house, lots of shorts, preschool through college and even after that, real chill, references to episodes, some songfics, some will have more a direct connection, stepbrother thing, that's a perfect word for this whole fic, then cartman's house is actually cartman's house, they're all pretty short but have some sort of connection, time spent with friends, unless they're 13 or younger, wholesomeish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:34:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 28,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26175808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepsicola/pseuds/pepsicola
Summary: Cartman and Butters have been together a long time. Not even in a romantic sense. They've been friends since preschool. And then life happened and they started dating. They dated for a long,longtime. The problem with being together for so many years is that they get mad at each other. Rarely. But when it happens, it's big and bad. In the end, though, nothing can drive them apart. No flaw, no fight. Through it all, they learn that love isn't like the movies. It's not about grand gestures and romantic proclamations. It's all the seemingly unimportant things that start to add up, all the little things they love about each other, that really matters in the long run.
Relationships: Eric Cartman/Butters Stotch
Comments: 59
Kudos: 32





	1. Nightfall

**Author's Note:**

> This work does not follow a direct storyline. It's all over the place. These stories snapshots of a moment in time taken over a span of years. Some follow a certain headcanon I have of the two. Some just popped up into my head in the middle of the night and I wrote it down. Some follow a song I envision them living out. Turns out, I wrote too many shorts, and I didn't want to post a bunch of oneshots, so I decided to compile them all into one huge, likely neverending story.

**Theodore😈🥴**

Wya

My room

Where else would I be at midnight??

Stfu

It's not even midnight it's 11pm

Are you grounded

No

Why

Are your parents asleep

Yes why

You ask too many questions

I'm coming over to help you sneak out

But it's midnight

So?

Don't you trust me

Yes but I still wanna know what you're planning

I'll be under your window by 1125

Eric I'm serious tell me why

Elaborate a little more at least

Chill bro

Trust me

:(

Ily you piece of shit

👎🏻

I love you** you piece of shit

Better?

:)

I'll be ready by the time you get here

That's what I like to hear

You like to hear a lot of things

Are you getting ready to leave or are you texting me?

You're no fun sometimes

Smh

Hurry your ass up

K

Don't respond to me w an uglyass k

Then how am I supposed to get ready when you keep replying and I have to reply back cuz you hate being left on read sm

So you're gonna leave ME on read.

LMAOOO

I'll let you leave me on read just this once

Butters had been reading when his phone lit up the darkness of his bedroom, drawing his attention away from his book.

He giggled as he reread his back-and-forth with Eric. Eric’s messages were only spelled and punctuated right due to autocorrect. Butters had seen Eric type before. He did it quickly and inaccurately. It was a wonder how autocorrect managed to identify words out of the jumble of Eric’s typed letters.

He bookmarked his page and put the book on his nightstand. Getting out of bed, he crept across his room towards his dresser to find a pair of socks. The floorboards creaked, and he cringed and stood still. He strained his ears for any sound coming from his parents’ room. After a minute of silence that confirmed he was still in the clear, he continued on.

When he had the socks on his feet, he felt under his bed for the extra pair of shoes there. He didn’t know what Eric was planning, so he didn’t bother taking anything except for his phone, which was charged to one hundred percent. He checked the time. 11:22 p.m. Eric would be here soon. He put his phone in the pocket of his shorts.

Out the window he went, jumping down as silently as he could onto the roof of the garage. He sat down to lace up his shoes. Once they were tied, he stood back up, peering down at the driveway of his home.

Eric was already waiting down there, staring up at Butters, the moonlight reflecting in the lenses of his glasses. Butters bit back a smile. There was something so thrilling about being up on the roof in the dead of night and seeing Eric waiting for him below his window.

“Let’s go,” Eric hissed.

Butters dropped from the roof to the concrete driveway with little noise.

Eric observed Butters admiringly. “You’re getting better at that,” he mused in a low voice.

“No thanks to you,” Butters whispered back. He was beaming fully now. It froze on his face when his mind paused to take Eric in.

He was in a T-shirt and basketball shorts like Butters was. Unlike Butters, though, Eric slept in boxers, so he must have had to put clothes on before venturing into the summer air. He was without his bicycle. That was strange to Butters. Usually when they went on nighttime adventures like this, they had their bikes for transportation.

Eric said, “Well? Are you gonna keep staring or can we go now?”

Butters met his eyes, startled out of his thoughts. “Oh. Sure.”

Kisses were saved for the sidewalk. Even with Butters’ parents asleep, it was too dangerous to be kissing on the driveway.

It was only when they were approaching the end of Butters’ neighborhood did Eric crane his neck and put his lips to Butters’ cheek in a fleeting kiss.

Butters didn’t reach for Eric’s hand and Eric didn’t reach for his. Instead, they allowed the backs of their fingers to brush.

Even in the night with no one around, neither dared to give any evidence of their relationship. It was meant to be hidden until they were ready.

Butters’ finger flickered out to Eric’s. Just the smallest touch. Instinctual rather than intentional. Eric turned his head to look at Butters. Butters looked back. Their gazes held for a second before breaking.

“Where are we goin’?” Butters wondered. He smothered a smile. “Since you wouldn’t tell me over text.”

“Walmart,” Eric replied with nonchalance.

Gaping, Butters stared at the side of Eric’s face. “That’s all? You just wanted to go to Walmart?”

Eric grinned. He shrugged.

Butters’ mouth closed. Eric’s teeth were biting down over his lower lip as he tried to get rid of the grin. Butters asked, “Doesn’t Walmart close at midnight?”

Eric finally looked at him. “Yeah. That’s why we need to hurry.” He grabbed Butters’ arm and quickened their pace.

The automatic doors at Walmart pulled open when Butters and Eric stepped up to them. Inside was cool. Butters looked around and saw only one cashier at the registers and few customers walking around the store. One looked homeless, telling from his dirty clothes and scraggly hair. He was talking to himself in the produce section, but Butters couldn’t make out a word he was saying. Then there was a family walking to the frozen aisle. They were probably making a late-night shopping trip. Butters didn’t recognize them, and he wondered if they were tourists.

Who in their right mind would want to vacation in small-town South Park though? Butters couldn’t understand it.

Eric instantly veered them in the other direction of the people. He kept his gaze fixed ahead. He rushed them through the women’s clothes and past the baby stuff just so the other customers wouldn’t notice them.

The candy aisle was where Eric finally slowed down. He scanned the shelves. He grabbed a packet of licorice and opened it.

Butters grasped Eric’s arm. Eric glanced at Butters’ hand, then his face. “What?” he deadpanned. The licorice at the corner of his mouth bounced as he spoke.

“I don’t think you can do that without payin’,” Butters whispered.

Eric raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Watch me.” He took out two more licorice. He maintained eye contact with Butters. He shoved the opened package behind bags of Sour Patch, then pushed them together to hide it.

Butters’ eyes widened.

Eric offered Butters a licorice rope. “When you’re with me, B-Butts, there are no rules,” he drawled.

Butters took it and said nothing. He was too fascinated by his sudden urge to kiss Eric.

They strolled further down, collecting whatever they desired on the way. They rounded into the chips aisle, where they sat down to snack on their unpaid-for candy. Butters snatched one of Eric’s pink Starbursts. He unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth. He shoved the wrapper into his pocket.

Butters asked Eric, “How’d y’know I’d be awake at the time you texted me?”

Eric sent him a look. “Of course I know you’d be up on a summer night reading To Kill a Mockingjay like a nerd.”

Butters burst into a fit of giggles. “It’s _To Kill a Mockingbird._ Not mockingjay. Mockingjay is from _Hunger Games,”_ he corrected.

“Same thing.”

“No it isn’t,” Butters insisted.

“Whatever. That’s why I didn’t decide to take English Ten Honors.” Eric shook his head. “You have to read two dumb books over the summer and then take a test once school starts. Hell no.”

Butters took a bite of his Snickers bar. “Y’know you’re gonna have to read _To Kill a Mockingbird_ and _The Secret Life of Bees_ too, right?”

“Yeah, in _school._ Not for homework in the _summer.”_ Eric scanned the row of chips to his right and grabbed some potato chips. He opened the bag as quietly as possible. “Why did you wanna do Honors anyway?”

“I took Honors freshman year. It’d look weird on my transcript when colleges see I didn’t take Honors sophomore year,” he answered.

“Aren’t you planning on taking three Honors classes this year?” Eric asked.

“Yeah.”

Eric shuddered. “My dumbass could never survive that.”

Butters frowned. “You aren’t dumb. You’re real smart actually. You just don’t apply your smartness to the right sorta things. Like this for example.” He waved a hand to the candy laid out between them.

Eric tapped his temple, smirking. “It’s called a criminal mastermind,” he whispered.

Butters giggled. He tried to get one of Eric’s potato chips, but he clamped a hand over the top of the bag.

“Get your own,” he said.

Butters dropped his hand and rolled his eyes. “Why’d you wanna do this tonight anyway?”

“Because I couldn’t hang out with you during the day since I was with the guys,” Eric responded simply.

Butters felt his cheeks warm. “Oh. That’s nice of you.”

Eric went on, “I like hanging out with you more than them. You know the most about me. And I think you always have.”

He was being so casual about the conversation, but to Butters, it was deeper than what Eric seemed to be thinking.

Butters said, “Yeah. You know everything about me too. Nobody else does except you.”

Kenny used to be one of the few people who knew everything about him, but that was before he and Eric swore to keep their relationship secret.

“Not even your parents, I bet.”

Butters froze. Eric went on eating candy. Every wrapper he shoved under the shelf. Butters didn’t like talking about his parents. They ignored him and made it clear they no longer cared for him.

Bitterly, Butters mumbled, “Least of all them.”

“I know more about you than your parents.” Eric chuckled. “I probably care more too.”

And that was the one good thing that came out of Butters’ parents’ neglect. He got Eric in replacement, and he couldn’t be happier about it.

“Course you do. You’re the only one. You’ve always been.”

Eric had cleared the floor between them of any evidence of the candy they ate without paying. If Butters hadn’t been watching him do it, he might have assumed Eric snapped his fingers and made it disappear.

“Mmm.” Eric paused. He met Butters’ eyes. His own eyes were gleaming with something Butters couldn’t place—something between mischief and adoration. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved something as much as I love you.”

Butters’ stomach fluttered. He found his lips lifting in a bright smile. “Not even Clyde Frog? Or Mr. Kitty?”

Eric mirrored Butters. “Nah. Not even them.”

Butters decided to risk it all and leaned in to close the space between him and Eric. To Butters’ dismay, the kiss was short-lived. Eric was the one to pull away. He stood up and offered Butters a hand. Butters took it. They walked away from the aisle. At least this, their joined hands, Eric didn’t break.

He walked them straight to the sunglasses. Eric took off his glasses and picked up a pair of black shades. He slid them over his nose and inspected himself in the little mirror at the top of the rack.

Butters didn’t know why Eric was trying on sunglasses; he didn’t even wear sunglasses, but Butters didn’t complain. He liked being with Eric, and it didn’t matter what they did. He was content as long as they could waste time together.

Butters asked Eric, “Can I borrow your phone real quick?”

Eric looked at him. The tag of the sunglasses swung against his nose. “Why?”

Butters pursed his lips at him. “‘Cause I wanna check the weather for tomorrow.”

Over the top of the sunglasses, Eric’s eyebrows pressed together. “Why can’t you use your own phone?”

Butters let out an exasperated sigh. “‘Cause I don’t wanna get it outta my pocket.”

Eric sighed exasperatedly too. He took his phone from his pocket and put it in Butters’ open palm.

“Thank you,” Butters said.

His fingerprint went through, successfully unlocking the phone. Eric still had his messages to Butters open. Butters was about to go to the homescreen, but then he noticed his contact name. He kept his delight within when he saw the bold **B-Butts** contact name at the top of the screen. Eric didn’t have emojis after Butters’ contact name like he had for Eric, but the fact that it was B-Butts and not Butters in the first place was way more exhilarating. 

Eric lifted Butters’ chin and scrutinized him from behind a different pair of sunglasses. These ones had silver frames and mirrored lenses. Eric slid sunglasses on Butters’ face. The world became turquoise.

Eric narrowed his eyes. He shook his head. “Nah. Not your shape.”

“What? Why?” Butters glanced at the mirror. The frame of the glasses was round and had a tortoiseshell pattern. The lenses were turquoise like the world. He scrunched up his nose at his reflection and handed back the glasses. “You’re right,” he said. “They really don’t fit my face right.”

Eric returned the glasses to the rack. “No shit I’m right. I’d know which glasses look best on you. I stare at your face all the time.” Immediately, he turned to Butters, going red with narrowed eyes. “Pretend you didn’t hear that.”

Butters laughed. “Too late,” he sang. “It’s already forever ingrained in my mind.”

Eric groaned. “Fine. Whatever. What’s the weather tomorrow?”

Butters had forgotten his original intention. He checked the weather. “High eighty’s. We should do something that involves AC tomorrow,” he suggested.

Eric slung his arm over his shoulders. “Like staying in my room all day?” He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow at Butters. He didn’t say anything further, but Butters knew what that look meant.

He leaned in close enough that their noses almost touched. Almost. Not quite. “Sounds good to me.”

Eric was smirking when he removed his arm. He didn’t want the touch to linger, and Butters knew it. It would become suspicious to the few patrons in the store if it did.

That is, if anyone else even noticed. It was more than likely that no one would. Not at this hour, at this store. But they had to be careful. Butters knew. He understood.

He hid his disappointment by reaching for sunglasses with a squarish black frame and lenses just as dark.

He put them on and turned to Eric. “How about these?” he asked.

Eric also had a new pair on. These looked like his prescription glasses. Black plastic at the top, gold wire at the bottom.

But when he saw Butters, he smiled. It stretched across his face, pulling his lips apart to reveal the top row of his teeth. Butters could see his canines. He realized Eric had his Invisalign in. It made Butters aware of his pressed up against his own teeth.

“Now _those_ are a pair of shades. I used to have one just like those I think,” Eric mused.

“Really?”

Something about owning what Eric had made his heart leap. That’s why he loved wearing Eric’s hoodies. Never in public though; that would be just as bad as kissing Eric in front of the whole school. They smelled like him too. Sometimes Butters slept with a pillow with one of Eric’s hoodies pulled over it so he could squeeze it and pretend that it was him—

Eric took the sunglasses off Butters’ face.

“What’re you doin’?” Butters wondered.

Eric didn’t respond. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pocket knife. The blade flipped up.

“Why do you have a knife?” Butters hissed. He moved so his body was blocking Eric and his knife out of view from the register.

Eric gave Butters a knowing look. “South Park’s a dangerous place at night.”

Butters stammered for a reply but couldn’t come up with one. Eric was right.

Eric stuck the blade under the tag of the sunglasses. With a flick of his wrist, the plastic loop snapped. He handed back Butters’ sunglasses. The tag of Eric’s sunglasses suffered the same fate.

Eric instructed, “Put the glasses in your pocket. The sensors won’t go off without the tags to trigger them.”

Butters did as told.

As Eric folded his sunglasses and put them in his pocket, he kicked the tags on the linoleum floor underneath the nearest shelf.

Eric returned his glasses—his prescription ones—to his face. “Let’s leave through the garden exit. There’s usually no one at those registers after ten.”

He took Butters’ hand. Casually, he led them through the gardening section. No one was nearby to see them. Just as Eric said.

Out in the parking lot, Butters asked, “Where to now? Walmart couldn’t’ve been the whole reason for sneakin’ me out.”

Eric gazed at him from the corner of his eye. “How about Stark’s Pond?”

Puzzlement twisted on Butters’ face. But then it cleared away and he said, “Okay. I trust you.”

Eric grinned and squeezed Butters’ hand three times. “I hope so.”

Butters had never been to Stark’s Pond in the middle of the night, not in all his life, not in all the times he and Eric had been together. When they snuck out like this, it was usually to the park they went, or even the U-Stor-It, and on rare occasions, the abandoned drive-ins.

He followed Eric to a spot at the pond where they were concealed by trees and out of view from the main path. They weren’t so deep in that everything was blocked out. They could still see the water through tree trunks. The moon and stars were reflecting on the dark surface. To Butters, the water looked like a second sky.

Eric sat down in the grass, his back propped up against the trunk of a tree. Butters sat beside him, his side pressed into Eric’s. He was allowed to be cuddled up to Eric like this since there was no one around to see them, and even if there were people at the pond, they wouldn’t be found.

The night was full of the sounds of nature. Warm breeze through the leaves. Water lapping at the shore of the pond. Crickets chirping into the night.

Butters wished he’d brought his sketchpad and a pencil with him. This scene laid out before him would’ve been nice to draw.

Eric was on his phone, the screen lighting up his face. Butters nudged his knee against Eric’s. Eric looked up. Butters immediately leaned in and kissed him. This one was to Eric’s lips, and it lasted longer than just one second. It was long deserved, Butters felt.

Eric’s hand landed on the small of Butters’ back. His body faced him, tugging him closer. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss. His tongue ventured into Butters’ mouth—hesitant at first—but then dominating. Butters sighed dreamily.

Eric had Butters pressed into him when he finally halted their making out. Butters wanted to whine, to pout and pull him back in, but the look on Eric’s face told him he wouldn’t allow it.

For a moment, Eric did nothing but stare at Butters, his hand on his cheek, his heartbeat lined up with Butters’. Then his hand dropped, he pulled away, put space between them. Butters had the odd compulsion to apologize.

But Eric was still looking at him, his face set in an adamant expression. His voice was dead-set and unwavering. “Promise me we’ll always be able to do this—to sneak away and pretend nobody else matters, that there are no consequences, no rules.” He held up his pinkie.

The edge of a smile threatened to cut Butters’ mouth. He locked his pinkie around Eric’s. “There are no rules when I’m with you,” he said, promising.

Eric’s grin was roguish.

Silence followed. It was a comfortable silence where their promises echoed on the wind. Butters watched as Eric took his knife from his pocket. He scraped off flaking tree bark until the smooth inside of the tree was exposed. He carved in the words _No rules_ deep into the wood.

_No rules._

Butters laid down on the grass, repeating the words over and over in his mind. He and Eric had a lot of things. Pinkie promises. Blanket forts. Secrets. No rules.

Coming from a home where all he had were rules, it was comforting to know he had a place where infuriating restrictions didn’t exist.

Eric put the knife away. He glanced at Butters lying down. Butters could see the thoughts flickering across his face. Then they vanished, and Eric scooted up beside Butters and laid next to him. Butters used Eric’s arm as a pillow.

Eric said, “Bitch, my arm’s gonna fall asleep.”

Butters giggled. “So? Relationships come with sacrifices,” he argued lightly.

Eric scoffed. He put his other hand over his face. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Just shh—shut up.”

“Make me,” Butters snapped around a grin.

Eric lifted his hand and his eyebrows. “Is that a challenge? Because I’ll do it.”

Butters dared, “Do it then.”

Eric didn’t do anything. He just grumbled under his breath.

Butters turned onto his side so he could play with Eric’s hair. The humidity in the air was making it wavier the longer they stayed out. Butters could feel the slight ups and downs beneath his fingertips. Despite the darkness making everything deep gray, Butters could see the color of Eric’s hair in his mind. In the summer, the longer he was out in the sun, some strands of brown turned auburn. It wasn’t noticeable, not at all, but Butters would never tell Eric about it if he didn’t know his hair changed in the summer. Eric had greatly expressed his dislike for any connections to his family on his father’s side, and Butters respected that.

The steady motion of Butters’ hand going through Eric’s hair was making both of them sleepy. When Butters noticed how Eric’s eyes were closed and he was doing nothing but breathing, he stopped. He moved his hand down to Eric’s chest.

Eric’s eyes blew open, startling Butters. “What are you—?” He took Butters’ hand and returned it to his head.

Butters giggled, continuing to fiddle with Eric’s hair.

The first thing Butters felt was grass clinging to his skin. It started itching as sleep slowly left him. The second thing he felt was him being shaken. As his sense of hearing slowly returned, he made out the voice of someone familiar. He couldn’t understand the words being spoken to him.

The shaking became vigorous. “Get up. It’s three nineteen. We fell asleep. We need to go.” It was Eric’s voice.

Butters hadn’t even opened his eyes, but he squeezed them shut tighter. He whined in protest instead.

“Get up,” was Eric’s stern voice again.

Butters didn’t. He kept lying in the grass, but he peeked through his eyelashes. He’d rolled onto his stomach in his sleep. Blades of grass were level with his nose. He had pins-and-needles in his arms that were tucked under his cheek. Eric was crouching in front of him. Butters had a perfect view of the dirty toes of his Converse.

When Butters didn’t get up, Eric started moving. Butters snapped his eyes shut to pretend he was still sleeping. He felt Eric’s arms slither under his armpits. He hoisted him up.

Butters let his head loll into the crook of Eric’s neck. Eric grunted as he righted Butters against his body.

Swiftly, Butters lifted his head and pressed his lips to Eric’s. It lasted a heartbeat. Eric broke the kiss, hastily unraveling himself of Butters to hold him at arm’s length.

“We need to go,” Eric said, more forcefully this time.

Fully awake, Butters stabilized himself on his feet. Eric started walking, not waiting for him to catch up. He stayed a foot ahead even while they walked down the sidewalk towards Butters’ house.

Butters stared at Eric’s right hand swinging back and forth as he walked. He could reach out and take it if he wanted to, but he wouldn’t because their relationship was a secret, and it was already risky enough that they fell asleep at Stark’s Pond together.

Keeping their secret was a small price to pay if he wanted to keep Eric.

At Butters’ house, Eric opened the side gate. There was a pause where they stood across from each other, staring but not saying a word. The yellow glow of the streetlamps cast Eric’s face in amber.

Butters took a step forward to kiss Eric goodbye before he was on the roof of the garage—maybe even a little peck on the cheek if kissing his mouth was too much—but Eric took a step back, his eyes glued to the concrete. Butters’ heart squeezed.

Eric crouched so he could help Butters onto the roof. He didn’t look him in the eye.

Pretending nothing was wrong, Butters stepped on Eric’s shoulders. Eric gripped his ankles as he slowly rose to his full height. Butters kept his hands on the wall to keep their balance. With Eric’s boost, the roof reached Butters’ abdomen. He hoisted himself onto it.

Once he touched base, he heard Eric below mutter, “See you, Butters.”

Scrambling, Butters sat up and turned. Eric had already closed the side gate. He was walking down the empty driveway of the house. His hands were buried deep in the pockets of his shorts and his shoulders were hunched to his ears.

Butters waited there on the roof, sitting on his legs, just to watch Eric before the houses would block him from view. He kept his eyes ahead, his stride purposeful. And then he was gone without as much as a glance back.

Butters climbed his way through the window into his bedroom, feeling as if he’s suffered the greatest loss of all: not being able to kiss Eric goodbye.

Butters shut and locked the window, pulling the curtains closed to block out the outside world.

In the quiet of his room, Butters was about to go through the motions to get into his pajamas, but he realized he was already in them. Same black T-shirt that he realized with a pang was Eric’s; same basketball shorts, the pockets heavy with his phone and the stolen sunglasses. He took off his socks, leaving them discarded on the floor. He got into bed and set the sunglasses on his nightstand and took his phone from his pocket to plug it into the charger. His phone was only at ninety percent, but he wanted it to be fully charged when he woke up in the morning. He dropped his head to the pillows and pulled the blankets up to his chin.

Laying on his back, the ceiling was cast in shadows of black splotches. He wasn’t comfortable in this position. He turned onto his side. He stared at the wall, feeling his eyes sting and his throat itch. Maybe if he’d acted differently when waking up from the nap at Stark’s Pond, Eric would have let him hold his hand on the walk home. If he’d gotten up as soon as Eric insisted without goofing around, Eric might have allowed him to kiss him goodbye.

It was too late for that though. Butters had already done the damage. There was no fixing it.

The brightening of the corner of Butters’ bed took him from his thoughts. His phone was where the light was coming from. Taking a deep breath in, Butters picked it up to see what his notification was.

It was a text from Eric.

Butters sat up abruptly, his heartbeat quickening. Jeez, what if this text was it? What if this was the end because Butters had messed up so, so badly? All Butters had to do was keep their secret, and tonight, he might have ruined that. This was the effect of his carelessness.

Butters breathed in deeply again. He was probably overreacting. The text was probably nothing.

But what else would Eric text for?

Dread and curiosity wasn’t a good mix. It felt like nausea. Butters decided to get it over with. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away. One thing kept repeating in his head, and it was powerful enough for prickling tears to gather behind his eyelids.

_I don’t wanna lose you._

_I don’t wanna lose you._

_Please don’t let me lose you._

He tapped the notification and put his thumb to the fingerprint sensor. Butters waited three seconds. Then he opened his eyes and looked down at the phone in his lap to read what Eric had to say.

I love you

You know that right?

Butters’ thumbs hovered over the keyboard, his worries lifting from his chest. His heart was thudding again, for a different reason this time. It was pounding in relief. He got himself worked up over nothing. What Eric had to say was the opposite of what he had been thinking. Butters almost let out a delirious laugh, but he restrained himself. He didn’t want his parents to hear and barge into his room to see him on his phone. He’d be grounded for weeks and once they figured out he’d snuck out—with Eric, no less—it would be _months._

He shot Eric a reply. He knew that even though Eric didn’t show it, he got anxious when he was being vulnerable.

Ofc I know that

Butters wanted to add more. He wanted to tell Eric about the silly thoughts he’d been thinking before reading his texts. He wanted to tell Eric he loved him too, and not being able to kiss him goodbye wasn’t going to change that. Above all, he wanted to tell Eric that he would never be able to see the outside world if he lost him for real. Nothing would feel the same.

Good

Grinning, Butters settled back onto his pillows as he watched the three dots turn into a text on Eric’s side of the messages.

Sorry that I booked it when you tried to kiss me

It was a pretty dick move

It's just that falling asleep for four hours in the open like that had me on edge

I understand

I just wanted to get out of there in case someone saw us

But I don't think anyone did

It's ok

Really

Cuz the first thing I'll do when I see you tomorrow is kiss you to make up for it

Well

Maybe not the first thing

You know what I mean

Yeah lmao

Butters chuckled. He brought his blankets over his head, cocooning himself in with his phone. He lifted the collar of Eric’s shirt over his nose. It smelled like laundry detergent, but it was good enough that the shirt belonged to Eric.

It was a flash right before his eyes. Butters could see the events of the night in vivid detail. He lived for nights like these.

Every time you sneak me out I'm glad you do it

Yeah?

Yeah

No rules

Butters could practically see Eric’s grin through the phone in his next text.

No rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Passionate As Sin (a series I started in November 2018), there were two timelines. I call one the Original Timeline, and the other the Restarted Timeline. Original is where Cartman leaves for Pennsylvania, causing Butters and Kenny to finally fall for each other. Restarted is where Cartman stays in Colorado, and he and Butters never break up. This story combines the two, but I never explicitly state it. Just thought I'd add that here in case of confusion for future updates since there will be references to that series, as well as most of the other things I've written. You don't need any background knowledge of those though.


	2. 16

It was a common misconception that Eric was stingy with his money when it came to anyone but himself. And really, that wasn’t a misconception at all. It was true. Completely, undoubtedly true. The exception, though, was with Butters. It was _only_ a misconception when it came to Butters.

They and all their friends were in Butters’ backyard for his sixteenth birthday. They were sitting on the grass watching Butters open his gifts. Eric had been one of the first to arrive before the party officially started. As he put the gift on the table pressed up against the house, he told Butters to save it for last. Otherwise, all their friends’ gifts would seem crappy in comparison.

Now here they were, Butters picking up Eric’s wrapped gift from the table with two hands. “Heavy,” he commented. He eyed Eric as he returned to his spot on the grass.

Eric just sat back grinning smugly like he already knew he won. Not that this was a competition for who gave the best gift. But if anyone asked, it was totally Eric who gave the best one.

Butters tore off the wrapping paper. Eric grinned bigger when he saw the way Butters’ eyes widened the moment he recognized what was on the front of the box.

“You didn’t,” he breathed in disbelief. The wrapping paper wasn’t even off all the way. Only Butters could see what the gift was, which prompted Tweek to ask, “Well what is it, man?”

Butters removed the remaining paper. He moved slowly in awe as he set two things on the grass in front of him. Everyone leaned in. On the grass was the box to a turquoise Switch Lite and _Animal Crossing: New Horizons._

Kyle had the first thing to say. “How the hell did you afford that, Cartman?”

Butters turned to him. “Yeah,” he agreed.

“He probably stole it,” Jimmy theorized with a shit-eating grin.

“It’s probably just a box with something that’s not a Switch inside,” Kenny added.

“Glad to know I have such optimistic friends.” Eric rolled his eyes. “Believe it or not, I save the money I get.”

Most of his friends narrowed their eyes at him in skepticism.

“I do! I try to use other people’s money any chance I get!”

The look on everyone’s faces relaxed.

“Well, that makes more sense,” Stan muttered. He and Kyle exchanged an exasperated look.

Everyone murmured in agreement. All of them had at least one personal experience with Cartman’s mooching and him getting away with it. Somehow.

“He only spends money on Butters,” Clyde snitched.

Eric sneered. “Better keep your mouth closed when you sleep tonight or else you’ll find your tongue missing in the morning,” he warned.

Clyde’s jaw snapped shut in fear.

Butters’ hand on Eric’s knee wiped the look from his face and everything on his mind, leaving capacity for only Butters. Their eyes met. “So you’ll play _Animal Crossing_ with me now, right?” he asked. As he did, his hand slipped into Eric’s.

Eric’s mind faltered as he honed in on the touch. Everyone curiously took in the way his eyes glazed over as if he were hypnotized. In a trance-like state, he accepted, “Okay.”

Butters’ face broke into a radiant beam. “Good!” He let go of Eric’s hand to inspect the Switch box. Once the touch ended, Eric snapped out of his stupor. Immediately, he saw the way his friends were smirking at him.

He scowled and stuck his tongue out at them. “If I hear one goddamn thing from any of you…” he dared.

None of them appeared threatened by it. Kyle even opened his mouth like he might push it, but then he came to his senses and didn’t. He just kept smirking triumphantly. It pissed Eric off beyond belief.

But for once, he decided to be the bigger person—at least that’s what he told himself he was doing—and chose to ignore him. He returned his attention to Butters. He was busting open the box, already eager to play. Eric could see it in his eyes. He had been right about his gift being the best because he _knew_ Butters the best. No one could top that.

As he got lost in Butters, he didn’t notice the blush creeping up his neck because of the way his friends were still staring at him. It was obvious to his friends though. It was funny.


	3. Backseat of a car

The curtains closed, lights off, door shut left the room dim but not dark. In the bed laying on top of the blankets in a T-shirt and shorts, Butters was curled up on his side. His hands were tucked under the pillow his head was resting on. His shoulders rose and fell steadily with each deep inhale and exhale.

Eric was laying on his back next to him. He was awake and absentmindedly running his hand through Butters’ hair as he watched stuff on his phone with the volume on low so he wouldn’t interrupt Butters’ nap.

It was three in the afternoon, summertime, and they were at Eric’s place. In his room, in his bed. Butters spent most summers there. It was an unspoken routine neither ever really planned on.

Eric knew for a fact that Butters preferred being here over his own house. He took pride in that, but he also made sure Butters’ house wasn’t filled with only bad memories. That’s why Eric usually spent at least one day per week there.

Except lately, he hadn’t pushed for spending time at Butters’ residence mostly because, a week ago, he finally fucked him there. That was a memory good enough to last them two summers, but that didn’t mean Eric would stop showing up to Butters’ house unannounced. He liked pissing off Butters’ parents too much.

For now, though, he was good with spending the last month of summer at his house. His only regret was that he didn’t fuck Butters sooner. They could have been doing it all summer if only he’d followed through with taking off all of Butters’ clothes. He was making up for it bit by bit by screwing Butters every chance he got.

What got Eric thinking about this was the video on his For You page. It was some chick pointing up at the text above her head. “Where everyone’s first time REALLY happens” it read.

She was replaced by the image of an empty backseat of a car.

Eric snorted. Nobody  _ he  _ knew had their first time there. He checked the comments. Most of them agreed with the video.

He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to do it in a car. He imagined it being uncomfortable and constricting. The backseat of his car didn’t even fold down.

He glanced at Butters.

Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he was thinking. He’d never know until he tried.

The song from the video was on loop, and it was getting irritating. Eric closed the app and left the room in a hurry for the bathroom.

An hour later, Butters woke up alone. Instinct took over and he felt beside him for Eric, only to realize he wasn’t there.

Sleep still hovered over his head as he walked downstairs. He heard talking and the TV. In the living room, Eric was sitting on the couch. He was playing video games. Probably with Stan and Kyle and Kenny, telling from the way he was talking into the mic of his headphones.

Butters went straight for him. Without disturbing him, Butters stepped into his arms to get himself between them. He sat in Eric’s lap with his head tucked into his shoulder. Eric didn’t remove his eyes from the TV or halt the conversation or take his hands off the controller, but he acknowledged Butters by leaning his head on top of his.

When the game ended, Eric shut it off, wrapping his arms around Butters in replacement of the controller. He kissed him and he held it there, pulling Butters down to the couch.

They made out like that for a long time. Butters laying on top of Eric. Eric holding Butters.

Eric smirked when Butters started to breathe heavy. He ran his hand from Butters’ jaw to his neck. He whispered in his ear, “I’m gonna give it to you so fucking good tonight.”

Butters giggled like the airhead he was. He lifted his head to show off the lust gleaming in his eyes.

Eric took it in hungrily. He reconnected their mouths, shoving his tongue in with little grace, proving just how much he agreed with that look in Butters’ eyes. Butters just whimpered in response.

“Boys, there are still other people in this house.”

They startled away from each other. Liane was standing behind the couch with her hands on her hips, giving the boys a scolding look.

Butters felt the embarrassment rush to his face while Eric hid his by grumbling, “Really, Mom?”

Liane laughed. “I’m only teasing. I’m fine with kissing, but if you want to get closer, go do it in Eric’s room. Quietly. Preferably with music playing,” she said. She winked at them before going upstairs.

Butters stared at Eric. He stared back.

Butters gnawed on his bottom lip before stuttering, “I—I guess we really shouldn’t try to get too… y’know…”

Eric snorted. “Guess so. Now come back here,” he demanded. Butters scooted back to Eric and put their lips together. Eric placed his hand at the back of Butters’ neck. He opened up his mouth against Butters’, and Butters’ jaw instantly fell open.

Eric chuckled as he slipped his hand up Butters’ shirt. Butters turned to putty at the touch. His shoulders sagged. His breath hitched. His head rolled back. Eric nuzzled his nose into Butters’ exposed neck.

“I want it to be this way forever,” Butters breathed.

Eric nodded. He grazed his teeth against Butters’ skin before agreeing, “I do too.” His knee forced Butters’ legs apart. He got closer, pressing up against him. He wanted to go further. He wanted Butters naked and blushing. Not with his mom in the house, though, because he liked Butters loud and his mom being around to hear it was something Eric  _ didn’t  _ want. Maybe later he could take them to the abandoned drive-ins and test out that backseat-of-a-car thing.


	4. So much for summer love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [august // taylor swift](https://youtu.be/nn_0zPAfyo8)

_13_

For the first time since they kissed in April, Butters was bringing Eric over to his house. They’d been spending most of their time undisturbed in Eric’s room. His parents rarely went in, and when they did, they always made themselves known by knocking. It was safe there, unlike Butters’ house. His parents walked in whenever they pleased, making this all the more dangerous.

Even Eric knew that. As they walked up to the front door, he whispered, “Are you sure?”

Butters nodded, inserting his key into the lock. “Yeah. They hardly notice when I’m here anyway. They only seem to notice when I’m gone and don’t say anythin’ about it till I come back.”

In the house, Butters could hear his mother in the kitchen moving around pots and pans. His dad was nowhere to be seen. That worried Butters the most. Not having his parents know Eric was over would make this a thousand times easier.

He looked over his shoulder at Eric, gesturing for him to follow.

They tiptoed up the stairs. Their breathing was shallow, as if a single breath would give them away.

Up in the hallway, Butters noticed the door to his parents’ bedroom was open. Cold fear settled in the pit of his stomach. That door remained closed unless someone went inside to grab something—

Stephen came out of the room just as Butters had known. He immediately noticed Eric behind Butters. His eyes narrowed; his shoulders straightened. There was authority in his voice: “Butters, you know you can’t have visitors without telling us first.”

Butters could hear the unsaid words hovering in the air between them: _You know_ he’s _especially not allowed here. Ever._

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I—I know, but it’s for… summer homework!” The thing was, there was no summer homework. His parents usually relaxed their rules when they interfered with Butters’ success in school. He knew that excuse was the only one that would work.

Stephen stood there, glaring at Eric. Reluctantly, he said, “Fine. But once you’re finished, he leaves.” He walked past them to get downstairs.

Butters rushed into his room with Eric close behind. Butters shut the door quietly, collapsing against it. He let out a big breath, aware of how fast his heart was racing. That interaction in the hallway could’ve gone a lot worse. Thank goodness it only went as far as it did.

Never had Butters ever brought someone he cared about so delicately to his house before. Eric had been there many times, but only as a friend. That was different now. There were things between them. Unspoken things that only showed their truth through silent kisses.

_14_

They were at the beach. Eric was laying on his stomach, his back exposed to the burning California sun. His arms were folded around his head, giving him a sense of darkness as he slept. Butters could tell by the way his breathing came in and out at an even pace. He was sitting right next to him, under the shade of a palm tree, watching the slow progression of Eric’s skin go from pale to tan, always alert in case he started to burn.

Their friends were in the water. Butters would be there too if he hadn’t told himself this was his duty to ensure Eric didn’t get a sunburn. In fact, if Eric was awake, he’d tell him to give in to Kenny’s coaxing and join the others in the ocean.

Pretending things were normal would throw everyone off of their surreptitious relationship.

But Butters didn’t really want to leave. He wanted to sit right here, under this palm tree next to Eric, staring at his bare back and wishing he could run his hands over it. Or maybe—even worse—write his name on his shoulder for all to see.

_15_

The following summer, Butters walked alone down the sidewalk. As per routine, he kept his head down and his demeanor small to deflect unwanted attention. Luckily for him, there weren’t many people out, and he made it to Eric’s street without trouble.

He went up the driveway. Pushing open the gate to the side yard, he wondered if one day, he’d be able to enter through the front door and Eric would be standing there, ready to embrace him.

Today wasn’t that day.

He closed the gate, checking through the gaps in the wood for any witnesses. The neighborhood was deserted. He turned and continued his way to the backyard.

Eric’s glass doors were always unlocked just for Butters. There was rust on the hinges from the rain of many seasons. It had been there long before Butters started using this route to get inside Eric’s home. The rust made the doors squeak when opening it, so he could only pull open a slit big enough for him to slip through.

He was quiet as a mouse while making his way upstairs. Eric had warned him Clyde had his friends over, telling him to be more careful than he usually was. Butters could hear them all laughing from Clyde’s room.

On Eric’s door, he knocked three times, a pause between the second and third so Eric knew it was him. After a moment of silence from Eric that indicated his entry, he went in. Eric was on his bed sitting up, already facing him.

Butters’ shoulders slumped in relief. He ran to Eric, throwing himself at him. Eric’s arms automatically went around him, tight and secure.

“They sound like they’re havin’ fun,” Butters whispered, meaning Clyde and his friends.

“They can’t know you’re here,” was Eric’s reply.

Butters knew that they couldn’t know he was there. He could dream, though, that there might be a day where it wouldn’t matter if he was known or not.

Sneaking around and trying to stay inconspicuous all the time wore him out, but being here in Eric’s arms made up for it.

_16_

That next year, Eric got a job. It was at the mall, at his stepdad’s shore store, on Mondays and Wednesdays from four to eight. But since it was summer, he worked from noon to six, leaving Butters alone for the time he was gone.

On one Wednesday at four, Butters got a call. He picked up and listened to the sound of Eric’s voice on the other end. “Meet me behind the mall.”

It was all Butters needed to get him out the door and onto his bike.

The parking lot—one that surrounded the entirety of the mall—was full. Wheeling his bike with him, Butters walked alongside the bare walls with paint faded from sun damage. Leaves and trash clustered up on the concrete. It wasn’t a pretty place. It was simply a good hiding spot to meet up without anyone knowing.

They were out, everyone knew about them, but they still felt the need for these clandestine meetings like it made a difference.

Eric was standing beneath the overhang, staring out at the cars that came and went. He was still wearing his nametag, pinned on his shirt right above his heart.

Butters leaned against the wall next to him, looking where he looked. The parking lot was always in constant motion. It was never still, never calm.

Eric said nothing to Butters, didn’t even glance at him to acknowledge him. Whenever he didn’t say much, Butters found himself observing him, watching for any tells that could indicate why he was holding back his flow of words.

The sun shone brightly on his face. The few copper strands in his hair became pronounced. His eyes were alight, the color in his irises dancing like the embers above a fire. But his jaw was set and his arms were crossed.

Butters didn’t speak, only stood there next to him, a breath away.

Eric didn’t ask him here for stolen kisses or whispered promises. He just needed his presence at his side. And Butters would do anything for him.

_17_

August was coming to a close. They were getting used to the flow of junior year.

So far, the best news Eric had received was the piece about a field trip in October, even if that field trip was for Physics. And even though Physics was lame to him, at least he could miss out on an entire school day. The only downside was that they wouldn’t be choosing their groups.

As the class waited for the bell that would end the period, Eric sat on the empty desk in front of Butters’, facing him so they could talk.

“How likely do you think it’ll be for us to get in the same group?” he asked.

“Not likely,” Butters admitted. “I heard that group arrangements are gonna be in alphabetical order.” And Eric was a C, Butters an S. “All Physics classes were goin’ too, remember? Combined, that’s about ninety kids. Maybe more.”

Eric nodded, accepting that fact. “Call me when we arrive so I can find you. Maybe I can convince my group to go around with yours,” he said. “Call me when we get back to school too.”

“Okay,” Butters agreed. “But what about the busses?”

Eric shrugged. “We might not get on the same bus, and I can’t do anything about that, unfortunately.”

That was the thing with high school field trips. You rarely got to be in the same group as your friends. On Butters’ field trip for ninth grade English, he knew nobody in his group. At least he made friends easily. That was the upside. If only Bebe hadn’t taken AP Bio instead of Physics, she definitely would’ve been in his group for this trip. At least there was a chance he’d have Craig and maybe Jimmy with him, but more than anything, he’d rather be with Eric. But like Eric said—there was nothing they could do about that.

When it came time for the trip, the rumor about alphabetical order turned out to be true.

Once they arrived at their destination, Butters tried to call Eric, but he wouldn’t pick up. He didn’t even see the messages Butters sent him about how his group was at the entrance and he could ask to wait for Eric’s group. Since he never replied, though, Butters didn’t bother.

He didn’t see Eric at all during the trip. Butters didn’t let it get to him. It was a big place. Crossing paths couldn’t be that likely, especially with all the stuff they needed to see. Eric had probably tried to get his group to find Butters’. Not everything could go the way they wanted it to.

Back at school afterwards, Butters called again. And like before, Eric didn’t answer.

Maybe his phone was on silent. Maybe it was dead.

Butters would believe it if only he didn’t know Eric well enough to remember that he never put his phone on silent or let it die.

The parking lot was full of kids walking back into the school. Butters was blocked on all sides. He couldn’t escape the slow-moving crowd. Keeping his neck craned, he finally caught sight of a red hoodie. Eric was walking through the gates, laughing about something with Token and Kyle.

Suddenly, Butters felt ten again, watching as Eric went off with his other friends on adventures, always seeming to forget he was an option too.

After not answering any calls or reading any texts, Butters expected Eric to be waiting for him at those gates at least. But he didn’t. And Butters couldn’t shake that sinking feeling.

_18_

Butters missed summer. During those three months, today seemed so far away. That autumn would never arrive.

Yet here it was.

Orange leaves, bare trees, crisp wind and cloudy skies.

He was sitting on the curb, feeling like he was living the last normal day before the end of the world.

A red Mustang pulled up. Eric was in the driver’s seat. He leaned over to the passenger side to push open the door. He said, “Get in the car.”

Butters stood and did as told.

The drive was quiet, stiflingly so. Butters wanted to say something, but the thing was, he had so much to say that he didn’t know how to express it all.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Eric whispered. His hands shifted on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening and the tendons in his wrists flexing.

Butters was going to miss seeing that. He was going to miss riding in this car. He was going to miss _Eric._

Butters shook his head. He bit his lip to hold back the stinging in his eyes and his throat. “You can’t go,” he whispered hoarsely.

“I have to.”

“No, you don’t.” Butters splayed his fingers on his thighs. “Didn’t,” he corrected.

“I know,” Eric breathed.

Butters looked up at him. His vision swam before him, blurred by unshed tears. “So this is it?”

He watched Eric’s throat move as he gulped. “One more stop. For ice cream.” He glanced at him like he wanted confirmation that ice cream would fix everything.

Butters just sniffled.

“There’s a Haagen-Dazs forty minutes from the airport,” he added. “We’ll stay there as long as we can. I’ll be with you as long as I can.”

Butters expelled a shuddering breath. Never in all their summers would he have thought there’d be a day he watched Eric leave.


	5. That pumpkin patch in the middle of nowhere

In the middle of October, Eric took Butters to a pumpkin patch because Butters had been talking about going to one since September. Standing amidst pumpkins spread out across the hay-covered ground, they went in search of the perfect pumpkins for carving.

“Oooh!” Butters exclaimed.

Eric turned to see him picking up a pumpkin the size of a soccer ball. He had a bright smile on his face as he picked his way back towards Eric.

“I want this one,” he said, holding it out to show him.

It was orange like all the other pumpkins. There was nothing special there. But this one seemed brighter shade, almost as bright as the proud look on Butters’ face. One side was plumper than the other; the stubby stem leaned away from it like it was trying to balance itself out. Unlike some of the other pumpkins, the one Butters found had no rough patches. It was smooth on all sides.

“Ain’t it cute?” Butters gushed.

Eric gave him a look. “It’s a pumpkin.”

“It’s  _ cute,” _ Butters insisted.

Eric scanned the ground for the perfect pumpkin for him. “If you say so.”

They kept walking up, approaching the tall hay maze to the left. All the while, Butters didn’t put his pumpkin down, cradling it to his stomach like it was his child.

A large, wart-covered, misshapen pumpkin caught Eric’s eye. He picked it up by the fat, cucumber-looking stem. “This is the one,” he decided.

Butters scrunched up his nose at it. “It’s ugly.”

“It’s  _ scary,”  _ Eric corrected. “The way things  _ should  _ be for Halloween. Unlike your wimpy pumpkin.”

Butters scoffed. “How’re you even gonna carve that thing? It’s so… unable to work with.”

“Just like me.” Eric flashed him a grin.

Butters rolled his eyes at the dumb joke.

They found the others by the pie booth. Kenny had a red wagon in tow that held the pumpkins the others had chosen. Eric put his in—there was no way he was going to carry it around for the rest of the day—but when he extended his arms for Butters’ pumpkin, Butters just stared at him. “I don’t want it to get mixed up.”

Eric waved his hand dismissively like it wasn’t his problem so he wouldn’t deal with it further. “Then carry it for the rest of the day. Don’t come to me when you want to put it down.”

“I will. It’s surprisingly light,” Butters said matter-of-factly. “And I won’t go to you. I’ll just put it in Kenny’s wagon.”

He kept his word and really did carry it the rest of the day. When their group entered the maze, he was still holding onto it. Kenny offered to put the pumpkin at the very front of the wagon so it was sure to not get confused with the others. Butters declined.

From the outside, the maze hadn’t seemed all that big, but appearances often lied. Soon, they were turned around and unsure of which way they came from.

“It was this way, I swear,” Eric said, pointing to the right.

“No, dumbass, it was that way.” Kyle pointed left.

“What if it was straight ahead?” Kenny offered.

“Or is straight ahead behind us now?” Stan questioned.

They all stood there looking at each other.

“It’s right. We came from the right,” Eric insisted.

“Do you not know your directions?” Kyle snapped. “It was left.”

Eric bared his teeth. Kyle sneered. They always got that like when they were about to butt heads. It was quite exhausting. Especially when they did it in public. They had no shame when it came to their spats. Stan, Kenny, and Butters couldn’t take them anywhere. When they were together, at least.

Before things could escalate, Butters offered, “What if we split up?”

Eric and Kyle glanced at Butters, saw the logic in his words, and backed away from each other like two wolves lowering their hackles.

“Whoever makes it out first gets five dollars each from the losers. Okay, go!” Kenny took off running straight ahead, the pumpkins in his wagon bumping each other.

Butters was about to tell the others how he was happier than ever to be holding his pumpkin, but when he opened his mouth to say it, he saw he was alone at the crossroads. Stan, Kyle, and Eric were all sprinting away in different directions. Butters sighed, following after Eric. Unlike the others, he didn’t take off running. He didn’t mind giving up five dollars.

Every other twist and turn was identical to the other. Butters started to regret not hurrying after Eric. He was at another fork and had lost Eric five minutes ago. He had no idea which direction he took.

“Eric!” Butters shouted.

There was no response.

Butters grumbled to himself as he took another right. The only company he had was the wind rustling the loose needles on the ground. And his pumpkin. His adorable little pumpkin that he didn’t want to carve anymore, for he did not want to ruin its perfection.

There was a sound from behind him. He could have sworn it was someone walking.

He whirled around, unsurprised to see nothing but the long stretch of stacked hay bales extending out into the horizon. There was no way he would fool himself into thinking he was being followed. Unafraid, he kept walking, his shoulders back and his head high.

Some more yards of walking and he heard the sound again, but approaching faster, like whatever was behind him was running at him.

He halted and stood there, waiting for one of his friends to jump onto him in a poor attempt to scare him.

It never came. He heard someone running towards him, he was sure of it. In case he was going crazy, he turned around to check if his ears were deceiving him. Instead of expecting to see the stretch of hay bales behind him, he was met face-to-face with a jack-o-lantern. He didn’t mean to scream, but he was taken by surprise.

As he stumbled away, the jack-o-lantern started laughing. Butters was quick to take in the red hoodie and blue jeans and dusty Converse. He was quick to take in the jack-o-lantern and how it just a hollow, carved-out pumpkin over Eric’s stupid head.

“Ooh!” Butters huffed, stomping up to him. “I’m  _ so  _ mad at you right now I’d throw my pumpkin at you if I didn’t love it so much.” He even lifted his pumpkin above his shoulder to further his point.

More laughter from Eric.

Butters knocked the pumpkin off his head. He caught it before it could hit the ground and explode into pieces.

“Where’d you even get that?” Butters wanted to know.

“I found it.”

Butters shook his head and marched ahead. “You find the weirdest things.”

Eric jogged up to him, crushing him to his side. “You’re not  _ that  _ mad,” he said, grinning ear-to-ear in such a cocky way that Butters wanted to sock him right in the mouth, then kiss him and apologize over and over.

“I am,” Butters argued.

The expression on Eric’s face told Butters he didn’t believe it for a second. “Whatever you say, baby.”

Not long after, they started to hear the sound of talking and children hollering from beyond the maze. They were close to the exit.

“We’re definitely gonna owe someone five bucks,” Butters said.

“We’ll see about that.”

Butters shot Eric a look, wondering if he actually thought they’d be the first ones out. Eric could be brainless sometimes, but he wasn’t  _ that  _ stupid.

They were last. Of course they were. What was a surprise was how Kenny was first. According to him, he had known the correct way back all along. He just wanted twenty dollars. This revelation had the others complaining as they handed him five dollars. Eric didn’t seem so upset, which was shocking, until he slapped a five dollar Monopoly bill in Kenny’s extended palm.

They all stared at him.

Stan asked, “Why the fuck do you keep Monopoly money in your wallet?”

Eric shrugged. “You never know when you’ll need it.”

Kyle shook his head like he was disappointed. Knowing him, he probably was. The same couldn’t be said for Butters. Keeping Monopoly money with him was one of Eric’s more normal oddities.


	6. Move over but don’t get far

Drowsily, Eric complained, “Jesus, why do you move so much? You’re taking up the whole bed.”

It was one in the morning and Eric was awake all because of Butters constantly moving in his sleep. Eric had grown out of his moving-around by middle school. Now all he did was twitch, according to Butters. But that wasn’t half bad compared to Butters’ moving-around, something  _ he  _ hadn’t outgrown. Unfortunately.

Butters didn’t acknowledge Eric’s grumblings, as he was still far away in dreamland. The fact that Eric even bothered saying anything was comical.

Eric groaned. He ran a hand through his sticking-up hair, sitting up to stare through the darkness at Butters’ sleeping form at his side. Laying on his stomach, he took up the middle of the bed. His legs were sprawled out—one across Eric’s thighs, the other hanging off his side of the bed. What was  _ supposed  _ to be his side, anyway. He never stuck to that once he fell asleep. His left arm was tucked neatly under Eric’s pillow, but the other was still loosely clinging to Eric’s shirt. He had all the blankets wrapped around him too.

Eric tried again, whispering, “Butters.” He gently prodded his shoulder.

Butters didn’t move.

Eric sighed. He looped his arm around Butters’ waist, separating his sleeping body from the mattress. With a grunt, he pushed Butters back to his side of the bed. He remained asleep all the while. Not only was he a mover, but he was also a heavy sleeper. The only thing that could wake him bolt-right up was his father’s harsh bark. That was hard to find when they were at Eric’s place because they both  _ hated  _ Stephen Stotch. If you asked Butters, though, he’d tell you otherwise. Eric knew better.

He settled back into his side, pulling his pillow under his head. It was warm from Butters’ skin and wet with his drool. Mildly disgusted, he flipped it to the cool, dry side. He laid there staring up at the ceiling. Something wasn’t right. He wasn’t uncomfortable necessarily. He had his side of the bed back. How could he be uncomfortable? He was just  _ missing  _ something.

When he was younger, he got like this when he wasn’t hugging Clyde Frog to him. He couldn’t fall asleep without holding him, even if the plushie was still in bed with him. It was different: having Clyde Frog next to him and squeezing Clyde Frog close.

In his sleep, Butters sighed a little.

At that, Eric knew what he was missing.

He squeezed Butters close, cradling him to his chest. It was reminiscent of his childhood and holding Clyde Frog. So maybe he never got over that need to hold something. And yeah, he hated it when Butters crawled on top of him, but he also hated not being able to hold him, especially when he was just an arms-length away. Only then, hugging Butters to him, was he able to close his eyes so he could fall back asleep.


	7. Scar

Eric pinched Butters’ left cheek. “Have I ever told you how fucking badass that scar makes you?”

Instead of thinking about it, he was focused on how his cheek was starting to ache between Eric’s fingers. He would have said something about it if only it weren’t for the way Eric was staring at him and his scar.

Back then, after removing the bandages after weeks upon weeks of wearing them, the scar seemed bad, terrible and ugly. It seemed to disfigure half his face. He thought that the scar would scare people away, make them not want to be his friend. Who would want to be friends with a scarred kid? Scars meant trouble or fragility or this closed-offness that unintentionally pushed people away. Being friends with a scarred kid would be too much work, take too much effort. Nobody wanted to be friends with a scarred kid.

But time wore on. Butters got older and smarter, noticing things about the world he hadn’t noticed before. One day, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he was brushing his teeth. He saw something that hit him right in the chest from shock. His scar, his dreadful scar, was faded and took up only the length from beneath his eyebrow to the top of his cheekbone. It was barely noticeable. In the reflection of Butters’ teenage face, it didn’t seem so bad as it had before. Holding his own eyes in the mirror, he had an epiphany. His childhood worries of the scar scaring people away had been silly. People remained his friend. They didn’t even comment about the scar when he showed up at school the day after removing the bandages. It was like it wasn’t there at all. The scar didn’t define who he was. The scar was a part of him. He was not a part of the scar.

Despite all that time and growth and maturity, he never found himself looking in the mirror and admiring it. But then again, who would? It was still a scar; it wasn’t pretty. But it wasn’t disfiguring and didn’t bring about the end of the world.

Butters combed back through his memory, trying to recall a time Eric told him his scar made him badass. His mind came up blank.

“No,” he answered. “I don’t think you have.” He would have remembered it if Eric told him something like that. Compliments from Eric weren’t easily forgotten, similar to how they weren’t easily achieved.

Eric finally released Butters’ cheek. Butters reached up to rub the aching from the spot, but Eric caught his hand and pulled it over his shoulder. Butters jolted closer—and Eric kissed him hard.

Even if the scar was terrible and ugly, with Eric saying it made him badass, it wasn’t so bad at all. In fact, it was one of Butters’ most defining features. Maybe he’d go look at himself in the mirror to try to see what Eric saw.

_ Yes, _ he thought, getting lost in the lulling movement of Eric’s kiss, the scar made him badass like those heroes in the action movies, badass like the genius villains who were never outsmarted, badass to Eric. That was all that mattered.


	8. F*ck

“You motherfucker.” Despite his profanities, Cartman said everything in a joking manner.

Butters pointed to himself. He was grinning when he asked, “Who, me?”

Cartman shot him an exasperated look. “Yes, you. Who the fuck else?”

Butters shrugged, still grinning like he physically couldn’t stop. “Yourself, maybe. I dunno. You’re more of a motherfucker than I am, motherfucker.”

Even Cartman was fighting to keep his face serious. “I’m so fucking done with you.”

_ “You’re  _ done with  _ me?” _ Butters rolled his eyes. “Oh, real believable.”

“I’ll make it believable. Just you wait.”

Butters sat back with his arms crossed and looked around the living room without a care in the world. “Okay. I’m waitin’.”

Now, Cartman could no longer contain a goofy grin. Still, he pointed at the front door. “Get the fuck out. I can’t fucking take it anymore.”

Butters remarked, “But you’re smilin’.”

Cartman attempted to school his face back to anger, but his grin kept poking through. “No, I’m not,” he lied, suppressing laughter.

“Now you’re laughin’,” Butters laughed.

Before Cartman could completely blow his poor act, he shot to his feet and went to the door. “Okay, fine. Then  _ I’ll  _ leave.”

As he opened the door, Butters said, “This is your house though. Where are you goin’?”

Over his shoulder, Cartman snipped, “Away from you, fucker.”

Butters made a noise of uncertainty. “Mmm… I don’t think you’ll make it very far.”

Cartman fixed him with a glare he so obviously didn’t mean. “Watch me,” he dared. “Watch me.” He stormed through the door but left it wide open. He stood on the front lawn, staring straight ahead at the houses across the street.

After two minutes, he turned back around and looked Butters in the face. Butters burst out laughing.

Cartman called, “Can I come back inside now?”

Butters laughed harder, falling onto the couch. He stopped long enough to say, “Hm. Let me think.” He paused. “Okay.”

Cartman came back into the house. He made a beeline for Butters. When he got to the couch he looped his arms around Butters’ waist and buried his face in his stomach.

Butters was still cackling.

Stan, Kyle, and Kenny watch all this transpire. Stan was at the dining table with Kyle and Kenny was in the armchair. They stared at the pair in bewilderment.

“It’s like we’re not even here,” Kenny commented.

“I don’t think they even  _ know  _ we’re here,” Stan said.

Kyle traded looks with the two. “Wanna dip?”

“Sure,” Stan and Kenny agreed.

The three got up and left Cartman and Butters alone—not that the two noticed.


	9. Blanket fort on your bedroom floor

A lot of things happened in the middle of the night: scrolling through socials, recording dumb videos in the dark, reading creepypastas to freak each other out (although that never worked; they mostly did it for shits-and-giggles). One time, Eric had dared Butters to watch some weird pornographic video just to get his reaction. It wasn’t a good reaction. Butters laid on the bed staring up at the ceiling and didn’t speak to Eric for three hours. Eric was about ready to beg on his knees to get him to talk again, but then he sternly told him to never ever do that again or he’d leave. Eric hadn’t been unsure if “to leave” meant the house or their relationship. He hoped for neither, so he never ever did it again.

Whatever it was, the two had their best ideas at midnight when they were so tired their thinking was beyond logical.

Tonight, they weren’t doing any of that. They were laying in Eric’s bed watching Netflix. It was calm. It was rarely calm. It was an odd mixture of pleasant and unsettling.

Butters’ stomach grumbled. Liane had brought KFC home for dinner, but at the time, he hadn’t eaten much because he wasn’t hungry. Eric had told him to just eat because he would get hungry later. Butters didn’t listen, and look where they were now.

But before Butters would sit through Eric’s _I told you so,_ he glanced at him to see if he had even heard it. He hadn’t, not over the volume of his laptop. Butters’ stomach grumbled insistently again. He was willing to risk that _I told you so._ He couldn’t take being starving any longer. He voiced his discomfort. “I’m hungry,” he complained.

Without taking his eyes off the screen, Eric replied, “Then get something to eat.”

Butters swatted him. Only then did Eric pay attention to the exasperation on his face.

“What?” Eric paused their show.

“Come with me,” Butters begged.

Eric made a face at him. “Why? You’ve been to my house since we were, like, eight. You know where everything is. Why do I have to go? I’m already comfortable.”

Butters rolled his eyes. He closed the laptop and tossed it to the foot of the bed. Eric was asking what he was doing, but Butters didn’t answer, instead pulling Eric’s lazy ass out of bed.

Eric was protesting all the way down, even after Butters shushed him and reminded him that his family was asleep.

“So? If they’re light sleepers that’s not my problem.”

Butters just shook his head.

It was dark in the kitchen, but neither bothered turning on the lights. While Butters searched the pantry, Eric ransacked the fridge. Once they had everything they wanted, they headed back upstairs. This time, Eric was quiet about it.

When his bedroom door was shut completely, Eric whispered, “Wanna build a fort?”

Butters nodded enthusiastically. “Lemme eat this Rice Krispie first.”

Eric rolled his eyes. Butters saw the moonlight bounce off his irises at the movement. “Can’t believe I have to do this all alone,” he grumbled.

Butters giggled. “You suggested it.”

Eric shot him a playful glare.

Butters sat at Eric’s desk as Eric fixed up a fort for them.

As he stripped his bed of its blankets, he said, “You’re eating that Rice Krispie hella slow on purpose.”

Butters snorted. “Am not.”

“Are too.”

He was right, but Butters wouldn’t admit that. If he did, he would have to suffer Eric’s complaining all night long and it seemed they were already going down that path.

Eric was finished with the fort and holed up inside with their snacks. Butters heard the sudden sound of their show being resumed. He popped the last of his snack into his mouth and crawled in.

Eric was laying under a thin blanket. He was using Butters’ pillow to prop up the laptop.

“Hey,” Butters whined. “You’re s’posed to wait for me.”

“And you were supposed to help me build the fort.”

Butters pouted. “You have my pillow.”

Eric shrugged.

“Fine,” Butters bit out. He draped himself over Eric—head on his shoulder, legs over Eric’s, his arm hugged to his chest. Eric didn’t protest, even as Butters reached over him for his Twizzlers.

They laid under the pitch blackness of their fort, slowly dropping off into sleep. Eric’s laptop continued playing until a black screen popped up and asked if they were still watching. Even if one of them were to wake up and hit No, the laptop faded to black as it died of low battery.


	10. Undying loyalty

It was the afternoon of a Saturday, and they were fourteen sitting at the dining table eating Subway sandwiches for lunch.

It was quiet in Butters’ house. The two were almost positive they were alone. They hadn’t bothered with checking. They got like that sometimes—being content with their recklessness. Sometimes, they couldn’t help not caring about Butters’ parents finding out.

Putting down his cup of soda, Eric, out of the blue, asked, “If I ever decided to kill Scott Tenorman, would you help me hide the body?”

Butters shot Eric a scolding look. “Don’t be silly, Eric.” He flicked a piece of lettuce off his finger. “Of course I would.”

Eric laughed out loud. He surveyed Butters with amusement set deep in his eyes. “Undying loyalty. Nice. That’s one of my favorite things about you,” he mused.

Butters grinned. “‘Undyin’?’ That’s a poetic way of puttin’ it.”

Eric shrugged, picking up his sandwich. “How else would I put it? It’s true, isn’t it?”

Butters went silent in thought for a second. “I guess there really ain’t no other way to put it.”

Eric shook his head, beaming. Before he took a bite, he said, “B-Butts, what would I do without you?”


	11. Argument #102

They had this argument thousands of times before, and each time, they didn’t get anywhere. The subject caused an endless cycle that resulted in tears and hands trembling from anger. Unfortunately, what they fought about wasn’t something they could easily avoid, mostly because Butters refused to avoid  _ them. _

Butters’ parents had been an issue ever since they found out their son was dating Eric Cartman, of all the foul people. The Stotches had never liked Eric ever since the incident that got Butters sent to camp. In general, they didn’t like his disobedience, rebellion, and disrespect.

But Eric and Butters didn’t argue about his parents not liking Eric; they argued about Butters leaving them and turning his back on them for good. Eric always pushed for Butters to ditch his shitty parents and come live with him instead. Butters always refused because he still believed his parents could change.

Eric knew that was the main reason Butters continued to try to connect with his parents and stayed living with them, but he wondered if Butters thought living in the Cartman-Donovan household would make him a liability and another mouth to feed. Eric had even said before—to his parents and to Butters—that if Butters were to ever live with them, Eric would pay for his clothes, food, and even rent if his parents wanted it. Eric had a job and saved up his money and was more than willing to spend it on Butters.

That was another reason Butters wouldn’t leave his parents: he didn’t want Eric spending all his money on him. He didn’t have his own job. He didn’t even know how to apply for one. He wouldn’t feel as bad if he had his own source of income, but he didn’t. It made him feel guilty. He’d rather sit in a stifling house with cold-hearted parents than waking up feeling that every day.

When Eric heard this come from Butters’ mouth, he was silent from shock. He was so angry that he didn’t realize this was the perfect opportunity to end the argument and tell Butters he shouldn’t feel guilty. Instead, his face screwed up in a sneer. He glared daggers at Butters and roared, “If you’re so set on believing your parents can change, then maybe we should break up before they fucking convince you to do it! You realize that, right? They hate me, so they make you feel like shit for wanting me by pretending you don’t fucking exist! So let’s break up and spare them the goddamn satisfaction!”

Butters took a step back. He was staring at Eric, lips parted, eyes watery.

Eric was also frozen. He was still seething, even as his words sunk in.

Everything was quiet for a long, long time.

Butters broke the spell by walking to his bed and sitting on top of the blankets. He hugged himself and hung his head, weeping to himself in quiet. Eric watched his tears fall to his lap.

Eric seemed to be the only person who could make Butters cry.

The guilt set in.

Eric wiped the look off his face. He crossed his arms and stared out the window instead. There were a million things he could do right now, but leaving wasn’t one of them.

He listened to the sound of Butters sniffling. He was so close. Eric was standing at the foot of the bed. He could crawl up to Butters if he wanted to.

He set his jaw and remained standing right where he was. He wasn’t going to break first.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Butters wipe his eyes, but the tears kept coming.

They were stuck like that for six minutes until Eric caved into the heavy guilt in his chest. He crawled over to Butters. He laid down next to him.

“I’m sorry. I always say things I don’t mean when I’m pissed. But I regret it now,” Eric apologized.

Butters swiped his arm under his nose. He snapped, “I wanna slap you so damn hard right now.”

Eric moved to a seated position. Butters kept glancing then glancing away, but Eric’s stare held steadily. Without hesitance, he said, “Do it. Leave a bright red mark right here.” He turned his face to the right and pointed to his cheek.

Butters finally lifted his eyes. First he looked at Eric’s cheek. Then his gaze trailed up to Eric’s eyes. “No,” he said forcefully.

“Why not?”

Butters sniffled loudly. “ ‘Cause that’d be abusive.” He said it like it should be obvious, and it was obvious.

But Eric insisted, “No it wouldn’t. I’d be getting what I deserve for hurting you with the crap I said. C’mon. Do it.”

Butters stared hard at Eric like he was waiting to be told it was a joke. When Eric stayed saying nothing, Butters glanced back at his cheek, tempted.

Eric coaxed, “I know you wanna do it. I promise I won’t be mad. I deserve it anyway.”

Butters reluctantly locked eyes with Eric again. He held his pinkie up in the air between them. Eric didn’t hesitate to hook his pinkie around Butters’.

As soon as their fingers were linked, Butters’ arm reared back and he slapped Eric across the face. So hard that Eric fell off the bed. So hard that Butters’ palm was tingling after.

Eric jumped up from the floor, spewing every curse word in the English language. And when he ran out, he cursed in Spanish, then German—and Butters was sure he even heard something in French. He slapped Eric’s four languages out of him.

Eric paced for a while, hissing, cussing, and letting out deep breaths.

Meanwhile, Butters was gawking at his red land like he couldn’t believe he was the reason Eric was wearing circles on his bedroom floor.

Finally, Butters’ senses returned to him. His eyes followed Eric back and forth. “I’m sorry,” he croaked. “I’m so, so sorry. I—I didn’t expect to hit you so hard—”

Eric started laughing. Joyfully laughing. Even as he rubbed the side of his face. He came to a stop and sucked in another deep breath. His back was to Butters. He stated, “Damn, that fucking hurt like a bitch.” He faced him. He was smiling. “I’m fine.” He dropped his hand and turned his cheek to show Butters.

Butters gasped. His handprint was red on the right side of Eric’s face, and it was starting to puff up. He couldn’t believe  _ he’d  _ done that.

Eric must have sensed his impending regret because he repeated, “I’m fine. It’s all cool.”

Butters’ jaw was dropped open. He was staring in disbelief. And then he started laughing until he felt like he would burst at the seams. And then he started full-on sobbing.

Eric rushed over to him and swept him into his arms.

Before he could ask what was the matter, Butters wailed, “I don’t wanna break up! Who else is gonna let me slap the jackass outta him just to get me to forgive him?”

Eric chuckled, running his fingers down the edge of Butters’ face. “I’m not going anywhere, baby. I’m staying right here, and I’ll always let you slap me after I fuck up.” He got serious. “I shouldn’t have said we should break up. I didn’t mean it, and I didn’t mean it when it came out of my mouth. I just wanted the final blow like the asshole I am. You’re everything to me, Butters, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Butters let out a laugh, feeling comforted. He pulled back from his hiding spot in Eric’s shoulder. He hovered his fingertips over the red handprint on Eric’s face. “Let’s get you some ice. It looks real bad.”

“It feels really bad too,” he agreed.

When worry crossed Butters’ face again, Eric chucked his chin. “Just because it hurts doesn’t mean you need to feel bad about it. I deserved it, remember?”

A smile broke through Butters’ frown. “C’mon,” he said, getting up from the bed and tugging Eric by the hand towards the door. “Before that gets any worse. What a nightmare it’d be if one of the fellas dropped by and saw that on your face.”

He and Eric shared a laugh as they made their way downstairs to the kitchen.


	12. Pocket knife

Butters knew Eric was up to something before he was even fully awake. Eric’s side of the bed was empty, and Butters could hear him walking around and going through stuff.

He opened his eyes. He was right.

Eric was facing the wall opposite the foot of his bed. He was pinning up papers to his corkboard.

“What’re you doin’?” Butters asked.

Eric turned. “Check this out.” He stepped out of the way in order to give Butters a full view of the corkboard.

The papers weren’t ordinary papers. They were pictures of people. People they knew. Butters recognized his parents first. The picture of his dad had the eyes X’d out in black Sharpie. The mouth was drawn over with a frown and the tongue out. His mom had swirls over her eyes and the word “insane” across her mouth. Then there was Wendy with a mustache and round glasses and “ugly” scribbled out over her forehead. The picture of Scott Tenorman was the most unrecognizable. A furious red X was scratched out across his whole face. Then in black, “Dead” was written from top to bottom.

Butters propped himself up against the headboard. He was gawking at the corkboard. All of those pictures had one thing in common: they were of people Eric hated the most. And to be frank, the scribblings over them were highly concerning.

And yet, the first thing out of Butters’ mouth was “I’m surprised Kyle’s not up there.”

Eric snorted. “He’s not _that_ bad.”

Butters pursed his lips. He already knew Eric didn’t hate Kyle as much as he claimed. He noticed Eric was twirling something in his hand. He jerked his chin at it. “What’s that?”

Eric held up his pocket knife. “I didn’t put up those pictures for no reason. Watch this.” He backed up so he was in between the corkboard and his bed. His hand reared back, and he threw the knife. Butters flinched at the thunk when it sunk into the cork. Eric stepped away to let Butters see the results.

The knife was lodged right in the center of his dad’s forehead. Butters was stunned, to say the least.

“It’s my shit list,” Eric explained. “And also my target practice.” He went to remove his knife.

Butters tilted up his chin, crossing his arms so he could huff, “Why’s it that you got Wendy’s face up there and not mine?” he spat.

Eric gaped at him. “Did you not just hear me? I hate these people! They’re for my target practice since I can’t harm them in real life! Why would you want your face there?”

Butters scrunched up his nose. “I don’t think you should keep up those pictures of all the people you hate. Seein’ ‘em all the time’ll just make you angry. If it was _my_ face, you’d always be happy when you saw it.”

Eric blinked before snorting a laugh. “You’re so fucking weird and narcissistic when you wanna be. But fine, I’ll take them down and put up pictures of you instead. When I’m pissed, though, I’m putting them back up.” He twirled the knife between his fingers, silently implying what he’d do to those pictures once they were up.

Butters rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t want that either. I want it down for good and I never wanna see you put it back up.”

“Aw, c’mon, Butters. It’s just a joke—”

“No, _Eric._ I don’t like it. I know there’s usually no talkin’ you outta most stuff, but I’m not lettin’ you do _this.”_ He got out of bed and took the knife from Eric and folded it up. He dropped it in the drawer of his desk. “Now take those down.”

Eric sighed, then grinned. “You do know that my lockscreen is already of your stupid face, right?”

Butters shot him a soft smirk over his shoulder as he left the room. His voice was light with teasing when he said, “That ain’t good enough for me.” He paused in the doorway to watch Eric unpin the pictures one by one and shove them into the garbage. His voice was even softer than before, as if consoling a child, “After I shower, we should go somewhere. Anywhere you want.”

Without looking back at him, Eric nodded. He took down the picture of Butters’ mother, crumpling it in his fist and tossing it in the trash.

Alone in the bathroom ignoring his pounding heart and clinging sweat at the back of his neck, he did his best to ignore the swarm of concerned thoughts about Eric and that corkboard and the knife. He would never do anything seriously violent to those people. He got Eric to take down those morbid pictures and he didn’t let out a word of protest when he took the knife away. That was a good thing that overshadowed everything else Butters had just woken up to. Eric liked dark humor. That was all it was. He even said it himself, it was a joke; he couldn’t harm those people in real life. As long as Butters was there to anchor him to the real world and its very real consequences, he would probably never be able to do something like that, solely out of his fear of losing Butters. Butters knew Eric’s mind well, and he used that to his advantage when need be. As long as he could hold their relationship and himself on the line, he could keep Eric safely sane. Keep him far, far away from the darkest corners of his mind. It was best for both of them. Best for Eric. That was all Butters wanted.


	13. What belongs to us

Amusement parks were their thing. Something about the laughing crowds of people, thrilled screams and sound of wheels rumbling down tracks in the distance, the sunlight warming their skin, cool breeze, bright colors and flashing lights.

Maybe it originated from Super Phun Thyme. Or the unbridled exhilaration associated with amusement parks. Whatever the case, it was theirs.

The car clicked as it trudged up the tallest bump of the roller coaster. Gravity was pushing them back in their seats. Their hands tightened on the safety bar holding them back. Once they hit the peak, it was like everyone on the ride was holding their breath. Even the wind buffered.

Then the car began to roll forward. Wind picked up as speed increased. Everyone began screaming at the drops in their stomachs.

But between Eric and Butters, the world was unimportant to them. As their car started to fall, Eric leaned in and closed his eyes. He held a kiss to Butters’ lips.

As they fell.

As other riders screamed.

As the wind roared around them

As the flash of the ride’s camera went off.

Everything was going so fast around them, but they parted slowly, both beaming. Their eyes met for the smallest of a second before they threw their hands up in the air and screamed at the tops of their lungs. They didn’t stop until the ride hit a jolting plateau that signaled the end.

They exited the ride, but instead of leaving for another roller coaster, Butters led them to the short line of people purchasing the photos that captured the riders’ reactions to the drop.

Butters bought the physical photo. As they walked away, they gazed at it. They seemed so blissful. Like what was going on around them didn’t affect them at all.

“It’s so cool,” was the only way Butters could describe it. The longer he stared at it, the more sure he became that this was probably his most favorite picture of them. It captured everything that was theirs: laughing faces, thrilled screams, rumbling roller coasters, slight breeze and gentle sunlight, vibrancy and luminescence. Uncontained ecstasy.


	14. Phone call

“Can you come over?”

“I’d like to. But I don’t think I can.”

“Why not?”

“Parents.”

“So today is one of those days they pretend to care. Of course it is.”

“You know I don’t like it when you say stuff like that.”

“I’m not going to pretend. Not with you. I’m not your parents.”

A sigh left Butters’ mouth. It was a deep, long sigh that came from the caverns of his chest.

“We went shopping around today. To those small shops where the owners make their own stuff. We were there probably all day.”

There was the sound of static, or maybe it was the sound of breathing. When Eric spoke again, he was whispering. Butters almost couldn’t understand what he was saying through that static.

“How long has it been?”

“A week and a half.”

“It feels like longer. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

“Why’d they do it? They didn’t find out about anything, did they?”

“No. How could they? We call all the time, just like this. They can’t read our calls like they’d be able to with our texts.”

“They might hear you talking.”

“They’re downstairs with the TV on. They can’t hear us. I promise.”

“It’s weird being without you. After all this time.”

“I know what you mean.”

“When do you think I’ll be able to see you again?”

“Who knows? They can be unpredictable. Maybe soon. They didn’t even really ground me. Just told me they want me straight home after school, no detours.”

“How soon is soon?”

“Three days from now at best. In three days, it’ll be two weeks since. I think they’re already forgettin’ about it. They’re always happier round this time of year.”

Static.

“Eric? You still there?”

A soft thud came from his window. Butters caught the tiny pieces of the snowball falling back towards the ground. He pushed open the window and looked down. Past the glittering colorful lights beaming up at him, past the fierce wind biting his face, Eric was standing there wrapped up in a coat with his hat on. Snowflakes fell onto his shoulders.

“Yeah.” He was still talking into the phone. Plumes of cold white air rose from his mouth. “I’m still here.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would you have told me to go home?”

Eric hung up and rounded the house to climb onto the roof of the garage. Butters opened the second window for him. Before he went through, he took off his shoes, knocked off the snow, and threw them on the bedroom floor. They sat on the bed across from each other, staring in silence, staring like they were looking at each other for the first time. His nose and cheeks were pink from the cold. Flakes of snow sat on the frames of his glasses and clung to his eyelashes. He wasn’t wearing his gloves. His fingertips were pink too. And when they reached up to take off his hat and fix it onto Butters’ head, they traced the edges of his face. They were cold. They sent shivers through him.

“I would have told you to stay,” Butters breathed.


	15. Issues

“Do you ever think about how we both have daddy issues?”

Butters and Eric were laying in bed. Butters was comfortable nestled under Eric’s left arm reading, but stopped to look up at Eric in confusion. “No. Do you?”

Eric shrugged. There was a faraway look on his face. “Sometimes. Do you think it’s part of the reason why we understand each other so well? Because we know what it’s like to have a dad not be there for us?”

Butters didn’t answer right away. “Could be. But I’d like to think that bad parenting’s got nothin’ to do with it. I like to think we understand each other so well ‘cause you gotta piece of me, and I gotta piece of you.”

Eric looked down at Butters and smiled. His eyes cleared up gazing at him. “Can you read for me?”

Butters glanced at the words of his book. “I’d have to start from the beginning, but sure—”

“No, don’t start over. Just read aloud where you left off. It’s not the story I want to hear. It’s your voice.”

Butters went pink in the face. “Okay. Let me just find where I left off…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn this chapter really is my first post of 2021 huh💀


	16. 7-Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they are delinquents. troublemaking delinquents. menaces to society.

Butters tugged on the collar of Eric’s shirt. Eric waved him off, not taking his eyes off the screen of his computer.

“Eric,” Butters urged, tugging harder.

“Not now,” Eric grumbled.

Butters twisted Eric’s collar, tight enough to get his attention but loose enough that he could still breathe. “No. I _want_ now.”

Eric finally swiveled in his chair after detaching Butters’ hand from his shirt. “What do you want _now?”_

Butters smiled sweetly. “Take me to 7-Eleven.”

Eric rolled his eyes. “Can’t you go yourself?”

Butters rolled his eyes back. “No. Walkin’ would take too long.” He leaned in close so he was whispering directly into Eric’s ear. “I’ll buy us Slurpees,” he sang.

When he pulled back, he watched in satisfaction as Eric’s pupils dilated. Distantly, he wondered if it was because Eric was looking at him or was just seduced by the familiar taste of Slurpees in the middle of summer.

Eric met Butters’ eyes. “Get my keys.”

Butters grinned in victory as he practically skipped out of Eric’s room. He found the keys to the Mustang on its usual hook on the board near the door. He swung the loop of keys around his finger as he waited for Eric.

Eric came bounding down the stairs shortly after, counting the bills in his wallet. When he got to the door, he put a hand low on Butters’ back as he ushered him out. “I just remembered that since today is July eleventh there’s free Slurpees until seven.”

After climbing into the passenger seat, Butters shot Eric a smug look. “If I hadn’t said nothin’ we woulda missed out on freebies.”

Eric started the car and backed out the driveway without checking his mirrors. Rolling down the road, he said, “And that’s exactly why you’re the best fucking thing to ever happen to me.”

Butters leaned back in his seat and laughed. “I am pretty great.”

Eric made a turn. “Don’t let that go to your head.”

“Already has. But don’t worry. Only compliments from you I let go up to my head.”

Eric snorted and flicked Butters’ forehead. Butters chuckled and retaliated by shoving Eric’s head to the side.

“Hey, I’m driving here!” he jokingly exclaimed.

Butters rested his hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Fine.”

Their taste in Slurpees was the same as their favorite colors: red for Eric and blue for Butters, even though Butters’ favorite color was more of a turquoise, but that was just specifics.

They sat on the hood of the Mustang staring out at the empty parking lot. The sun was still shining brightly despite seven o’clock slowly approaching. The cold of the drinks compensated for the warmth in the air.

“Everything tastes better when it’s free,” Eric said.

Butters nodded. “Or when it’s stolen. Not that we’d know anythin’ about that,” he added with a smirk. He and Eric took the candy bars from their pockets.

Eric met his eyes, grinning back. “I’m such a bad influence on you. It’s fucking awesome.”

Butters laughed. “Whatever you say, Eric.”

Eric lifted his cup in the air. Butters tapped his cup against it. They brought down their drinks in unison, sticking their straws in their mouths and stared off into the distance.


	17. Bedtime

Eric was a big fan of pop music—music that ranged from the late 2000s to the early 2010s. Above all, Lady Gaga was his all-time favorite.

They were in the bathroom, toothbrushes in their mouths and toothpaste foam collecting at the corners. They were supposed to be washing up for bed, but instead, they were dancing to a loud Kesha song playing at full blast.

Eric had to cover his mouth when he laughed at Butters’ dancing. He was a good dancer, there was no doubt about it. But it just seemed so out of place because of his toothbrush and how he was only in shorts. Eric supposed he looked pretty stupid too since his appearance was identical to Butters’: toothbrush, no shirt, basketball shorts.

Eric rolled his eyes, about to get lost in the beat again, but the door to the bathroom opened.

Both boys immediately stopped and stared at Roger, Eric’s stepdad. Roger stared back.

The music played on into the chorus and in his head, Eric was cursing about how they were missing the best part of the song.

Finally, Roger said something. “Hurry it up, boys. It’s past midnight.” Then he was gone, the door closed again.

Eric and Butters turned their wide eyes on each other. Butters threw his head back while Eric bent over the sink to burst out laughing.


	18. The hoodie system

Butters pulled the white Terrance and Phillip hoodie off its hanger. He slowly slid the closet door shut to keep it from making any noise.

His stealth hardly mattered though. He jumped when he heard Eric’s voice behind him say, “What are you doing?”

Butters spun on his heel. His heart was pounding, and he glared at Eric. “You scared me!” he exclaimed.

Eric ignored that and asked, “What are you doing with my hoodie? You still haven’t put back my gray one.” He took the hoodie from Butters’ hands. “You know the system, Butters. If you wanna wear one of my hoodies, you have to put one back. You can only keep three—”

“—At a time, I know,” Butters finished. “I have your hoodie too! I respect the system.” He went to his backpack and pulled out the missing gray hoodie. “I was aboutta put it back.”

Eric squinted at him, skeptical.

Butters made an X over his heart. “I swear! I respect the system, I really do!”

Eric traded Butters the Terrance and Phillip hoodie for the gray one.

As Butters pulled the hoodie over his head, he said, “Y’know, just ‘cause you call it a system don’t mean they aren’t rules.”

He grinned at the disgusted look on Eric’s face. “Me? And rules? Get over yourself, Butters, seriously. You sound insane.”

Butters shrugged, amused by Eric’s over-exaggerated denial. He loved that gleam in his eyes he got whenever he joked.

Eric slung his arms over Butters’ shoulders. He tilted his head towards him like he was going to kiss him, but then he shoved the gray hoodie in his face. “Put this back,” he said, his words all silky and low with persuasion.

Butters huffed and took the hoodie from him. He hung it back up. When he turned around, he crashed right into Eric’s lips.


	19. Soulmate

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

Eric’s head whipped around to gawk at Butters. Butters’ focus was still fixated on the TV. Slowly, Eric asked, “Why?”

Still not looking at him, Butters shrugged. “I dunno. I just know that I like the idea that there’s someone everyone meets someday who’s designed for ‘em.” Now Butters met Eric’s eyes, like he was trying to get him to understand that he was talking about  _ them. _

Eric glanced to the side in thought. “Well… whether soulmates are a real thing or not, you’re mine. There’s nobody else out there for me, and I don’t want anybody else. You’re the only person I love. Like—really love. Not in the way I love my mom or Mr. Kitty. I  _ really _ love you. I don’t know if that has to do with soulmates, but I know it’s true.”

Butters didn’t respond. He did one better and beamed and put his head on Eric’s shoulder, kissing his neck. Even if Butters’ question came from out of nowhere and Eric thought up his answer on the spot, he felt a sense of relief, like he’d been holding that back saying that to Butters forever.


	20. The sad truth

The fact is: Eric loves Butters more. It’s something they would never acknowledge—because Butters is unaware and Eric doesn’t want him to be. Eric would do just about anything for him. Even if that _anything_ was illegal or immoral. But having Butters know he loves him more is the only thing he’d never do.

He had spent a lot of time thinking about just how far he’d go for one person, and one winter night when he was fourteen, he realized that there was no limit. He would do anything for Butters. Anything.

It was four years later, when Eric was almost eighteen, that it dawned on him that he loved Butters more. It came as a passing thought as he watched Butters flash him a smile as he walked down the stage after receiving his diploma. Eric, his last name starting with C, was in the first few rows, and that moment Butters beamed at him, Eric felt its radiance all the way from his seat.

But what Eric keeps deep down locked up tight in the depths of his soul is his awareness that if Butters were to ever leave him, he would have nothing and be nothing—he would be a shell of a person.

Butters is the only thing that matters to Eric. It used to be that Eric only looked out for himself and nobody else, but after realizing how bottomless his love for Butters was, he knew Butters was even more important than himself.

And that’s why, insane as it sounded, Eric would take a bullet for Butters. He would sacrifice his happiness if it meant Butters would be happy. As long as Butters was happy, Eric would be too. Even if it didn’t feel like that the moment it happened.

But the scariest part? Eric knew he was the one with more to lose. If anything were to drive them apart, pray nothing would, Butters would have Kenny to fall back on. Or Dougie. Or Stan. Or any of their other friends.

Eric, though? He would have no one. Sure, Kyle, Stan, and Kenny were his closest friends. And Clyde was his brother. But they’d never seen him when he was most vulnerable. They’d seen him cry, but never sob searing hot tears that had no apparent end. They’d never seen him so terrified he was paralyzed. They’d never seen him smile so wide that his cheeks hurt but he couldn’t get himself to stop.

And so it became that Eric’s deepest fear was of losing Butters. All because he loved Butters a little bit more.


	21. What nobody else sees

Even though Butters’ love didn’t run as deep as Eric’s, he still loved him more than he’d ever loved before. He was scared to lose Eric too. Without him, nobody would have seen all of Butters’ sides, both the good and bad ones.

Most people saw Butters as the kind, outgoing, naively wide-eyed kid who was dating the school bad boy. But Butters was more than that, and Eric saw it.

He knew Butters could be reckless. That was always Butters’ weakness, especially growing up. It was his recklessness that drew him to Eric and his schemes and that devilish gleam in his eyes when he smiled.

Eric knew Butters sometimes faked his smile. His negligent, abusive parents got to him more than he let on.

Eric knew Butters wasn’t a saint. And Butters really appreciated it. He adored the rush he got when it would dawn on him that with Eric, he didn’t have to be anybody but himself.

So that’s the reason why Butters is scared to lose Eric: nobody would understand him the way Eric did. Others might even be disturbed to find out Butters’ true self, his true self that was capable of a dark side. But Eric wasn’t. And it was the best feeling in the world.


	22. Special circumstance

Hastily, Butters wiped his leaking eyes as he went onto the call log of his phone. He was proud that his hands were steady as he did so, but he knew it wouldn’t last long. As the phone rang, he went and sat on the curb in front of his house. He kept his left arm around his torso in a poor attempt to keep himself warm.

In his room, Eric almost let his phone go to voicemail. Why was anybody calling him? This late at night? It was probably just a scam call.

But his curiosity got the best of him and he glimpsed at his lit-up screen.

He almost jumped out of his chair when he saw Butters’ contact name. He answered as fast as possible. He couldn’t believe he’d almost missed Butters’ call!

“H-hey, Eric.” Butters’ voice was broken and nasally and had Eric instantly worried. “S-sorry to bother you at this hour—”

Eric cut him off. “Bother me? Why the hell would I be bothered by you calling me?”

He could almost see Butters shrug. “W-well, ‘cause it’s almost nine at night on a T-Tuesday, so you’re probably just startin’ your homework ‘cause you’d’ve been procrastinatin’ all day—”

On the other end, when Eric interrupted his rambling, Butters could hear the comfort in his words. He sighed, “Look, I’d never be bothered by you calling—Are you crying?”

Butters reached up to touch his face, finding more tears streaming down his cheeks. But he had a feeling it was his choppy breathing that gave it away. “Oh. Yeah. That’s why I called.” He swallowed back a sob as unwanted recollections came to mind. “I got locked out again.”

Eric’s line was silent. Butters had to look at his screen to make sure he was still there. But when Butters heard a muffled, “That’s the sixth time this fucking month!” he put the phone back to his ear. Eric continued, “And it’s a goddamn October night, for fuck’s sake! I  _ know  _ your parents weren’t generous enough to throw you out with a jacket—” He took a breath. “Never mind. Where are you? I’m coming to get you.”

Fueled by anger, Eric stood from his desk and pulled on the hoodie hanging over the back of his chair. He went to his closet and took down a thick one for Butters. As he stormed downstairs, Butters told him, “I’m sittin’ on the curb in fronta my house.”

“I’m walking out of the house as we speak.” Eric’s mom was sitting on the couch, giving him a confused look. Eric pointed to his phone and mouthed,  _ Butters.  _ She nodded. Eric opened the front door. “I’ll be over in five minutes.”

“Don’t hang up!” Butters’ heart was pounding and he was finally trembling. He realized the volume of his voice and lowered it to an almost-whisper. “I—I need to hear your voice,” he elaborated.

“I wasn’t planning on hanging up, B-Butts,” Eric assured. There was quiet for a bit, and Butters could hear Eric’s shoes hitting the sidewalk as he hurried over to him. It sounded like he was running, or maybe speed-walking. He was grateful for his hastiness. “So you said you thought you’d be bothering me by calling because you knew I just started my homework? You were right.”

Butters smiled at that, proud that he knew Eric so well.

“I have a rough draft for English due tomorrow and I’d just started it. Thank God it’s only a rough draft because it’s gonna be hella rough. But I always find that my best ideas hit me at night.”

Butters let out a tired giggle. “Trust me, I know they do,” he mumbled.

“Have you read  _ Lord of the Flies  _ in class yet?”

“No, we’re not gonna read that till January or somethin’.”

Butters could hear Eric’s eyeroll in his exasperated voice. “It’s hella boring. The dumbass author goes on and on about the fucking scenery. It’s hella lame, dude.”

Butters bit back laughter. “You’re sayin’ ‘hella’ again,” he reminded him.

“My bad.”

“It’s all right. It’s kinda funny.”

“At least you don’t find it hella annoying like Kyle.”

When Eric said this, his voice sounded much clearer and up close. Butters looked up in time to watch Eric stop right in front of him. He still had the phone to his ear.

Butters hung up for them and smiled at him to the best of his ability without looking too sad. He was relieved Eric was here now, but he was sorry he had to interrupt the rare time Eric was focused enough to sit down and do his homework.

Eric brought Butters’ head to his stomach and hugged him. Butters wrapped his arms around Eric’s legs and squeezed him so hard to keep himself from crying about how he was really here.

Eric ruffled Butters’ hair before pulling back and tugging a hoodie over his head. Butters eagerly fit his arms into the sleeves. Eric put the hood up for him, and before he could tighten it around his face, Butters stuck the drawstrings between his teeth.

Eric whispered, “Do you want me to go in there and give your crappy parents a piece of my mind?”

Butters shook his head. He was craving comfort, not conflict.

Eric understood this without Butters telling him. He found Butters’ hand—his fingers were like icicles—and pulled him to his feet. Butters fell into Eric’s side with ease. Eric stuffed their joined hands in the pocket of his hoodie. As they began walking back to his place, Eric rubbed his fingers over Butters’, trying to return warmth to his hand.

“Why’d they lock you out?” he wanted to know.

Butters let loose a sigh so heavy that his whole body went limp. “If it’s okay with you, I don’t really wanna talk about it right now,” he admitted, unable to hide the waver in his words.

“Of course it’s okay with me. Tell me whenever you want. Just answer this, okay?”

Butters nodded.

Eric paused to wet his lips. Every time Butters got into a fight with his parents, Eric couldn’t help wondering, “Was it about me?”

“No. It wasn’t bout you, so don’t worry bout that.”

If Butters wasn’t so dutifully honest to Eric all the time, he wouldn’t have believed him. But he could tell when Butters lied so rarely when he did. And he knew Butters hated lying to him in general, so it was never an issue.

Eric felt a bit better knowing it wasn’t his fault Butters got locked out. Mostly, he was still pissed that Butters’ parents had the nerve to do that to their only son.

Eric managed to reply with a short, “Okay.”

They didn’t really say much after that. Eric pulled Butters closer. Butters wiped his still-drying face. They only spoke once they entered Eric’s house.

Liane was still on the couch, and she asked if Butters was hungry and if he would like to eat anything if he was. Butters politely refused, explaining he’d already eaten dinner and was just tired.

Eric escorted him up to his room. “I’m gonna finish my rough draft. You go ahead and go to sleep.” He pulled out his chair and sat down in front of his computer.

Butters went into the bathroom. He locked the door behind him. He stood in front of the sink and squeezed toothpaste onto his toothbrush.

Staring at the mirror, he was suddenly aware of how familiar this bathroom had become to him. He wandered in here in the middle of the night to relieve himself. He’d sung in the shower. He had been right where he was standing at the moment, but Eric had been with him and they had their toothbrushes in their mouths as they danced to Eric’s music coming from his phone speaker.

Butters spat into the sink and rinsed his mouth. He turned off the light as he left the bathroom.

In the room, Eric was typing so furiously fast Butters wondered if he was even typing words that were in a dictionary.

Aside from his own toothbrush, Butters had spare PJ’s right next to Eric’s in his dresser. Sometimes, though, Butters put on one of Eric’s shirts instead of his own. Tonight was one of those nights.

Before getting into bed, Butters went up to Eric and watched his screen. His words were actually real words, but every other one had a squiggly red line beneath it. Butters ran a hand through Eric’s hair down to the point of his neck and kissed his temple. Then he fell onto the bed.

They were watching  _ The Simpsons _ in the living room. Butters’ hand was up in Eric’s hair. A licorice rope hung from the corner of Eric’s mouth.

Butters was invested in what he was watching, so when Eric paused it, Butters looked up at him in offense. “What was that for?”

Eric had that wild glimmer in his eyes—that glimmer he got when he’d just thought up a foolproof plan. “I’ll play it,” he promised, “but hear me out first.”

Butters glanced from the TV to Eric’s face. “All right.”

Eric faced his body to Butters. “I’ve noticed that you’ve been getting locked out pretty frequently lately. And to be honest, even if it sounds wimpy, I’m worried about you. So… in case you get kicked out and not just locked out, I have a plan for what we’ll do if that happens.”

Butters was terrified at the thought of his parents kicking him out. He whispered, “Do you think they’d ever do that? Kick me out? For good?”

Eric hesitated. “I hope not, but in case, this is what’ll happen. You’ll call me. That’s the first thing you’ll do, and you already do that, so we’re good there. And if they take your phone or you don’t have it on you, come to my house asap. But if you  _ do  _ have it with you and you call me, I’ll come get you. Like we already do. If it so happens that you were to get kicked out before the age of eighteen, you’re gonna file for emancipation.”

“Emancipation?!” Butters exclaimed. His eyes flickered to the TV. “Emancipation—as in what Bart just went through? He was terrified about livin’ alone!”

“He’s also ten. And you won’t be living alone. You’d live with me. It would be like how it is now. You’d sleep in my bed, and you have clothes here but we could buy you new ones if you need it. And obviously, we have food and water so you’d be fine. And even better: your parents wouldn’t be around,” Eric explained.

Butters messed with a lock of Eric’s hair that was between his fingers. He felt so hollow knowing that the possibility of his parents kicking him out was so high that Eric created a plan for if it ever happened.

Eric lifted Butters’ chin to make him look him in the eye. “It’s only in case, B-Butts. Trust me, I hope we never have to go through with it. I’m only looking out for you.”

Butters offered a weak smile. He covered Eric’s hands with his. “I know. Thank you.”

Eric kissed Butters cheek. He slid his arm further around his shoulders. The episode was resumed. Suddenly, Bart’s fear of being alone vanished when he stumbled into a skater-filled apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they're watching _the simpsons,_ s14e11, "barting over"


	23. The door

Staying over at each other’s houses was easy. Eric’s mom was chill. Butters’ parents were rarely home.

When they had still been a secret, Liane would never question why Butters was over so often. She would just smile at him and ask if he would be spending the night.

At Butters’ house there were no parents to question Eric. They would go there immediately after school and Eric would stay until it was nearly time one of Butters’ parents came home.

A trick they learned when sleeping over was acquired at Eric’s house. Liane rarely went into Eric’s room, so when it was time for bed, Eric would sleep on the side closest to the door. It created an illusion for if Liane were to ever check on her son in the middle of the night, it would look like he was alone in bed.

It was the same for when Eric spent the night at Butters’ house. Butters would sleep on the side facing the door. It was more crucial they remained swamped in blankets so his parents wouldn’t be able to make out the shape of another person in the bed.

Out of all the habits they learned during their secrecy, the door habit was the easiest to break. Instead of coordinating who was on the door side, they slept according to who got into bed first.

Sleeping was always easier when they were together.


	24. What ifs

The fastest way Butters fell asleep when he wasn’t bone-tired was by talking himself to sleep. He had always been chatty, but ever since spending nights with Eric, his night-talking had developed.

Tonight, he was rambling about, “What do you think woulda happened if I never asked if we were datin’ all the way back in eighth grade? Do you think it woulda taken longer for us to date officially? ‘Cause I hardly think it woulda happened so soon if I didn’t mention it. Would we’ve even dated at all? Would we’ve stayed in that friends-but-not-really-friends-‘cause-we-kiss stage?” There was a pause. When he spoke again, his voice was low, borderline shaking and fearful. “Or what if it all would’ve eventually just faded away? All the rush and thrill and—and intoxication. It would’ve just wore off like a temporary spell. And we’d stray so far apart we wouldn’t even be friends anymore. What if I never said anything and for the first time ever, we’d be strangers?”

Eric was on his side with his back to Butters. Their blanket was pulled up to his shoulders. For a moment, Butters took his silence as him sleeping, but then he grumbled, “I can think of a few better uses you could put that mouth to instead of running it all the damn time.”

Butters’ jaw dropped. “Eric!” he hissed.

What a lewd thing to imply when he was trying to talk about something so serious. He almost said so, but in his tired, groggy, muffled-by-his-pillow voice, Eric commanded, “Shut the fuck up. I do not wanna talk about it ‘cause I’m just trying to sleep right now.”

Butters really did shut the fuck up because of the way Eric told him to. Butters shut the fuck up because of how much he loved the sound of his gravelly voice. It made him weak.

He snuggled into his pillow, snaking an arm around Eric’s middle. It wasn’t often Eric let him be the big spoon but even Eric wanted to be held sometimes. Eric also let him do it because he didn’t want Butters to stay up all night thinking about stupid impossible  _ what if _ s. He didn’t like how he had started down that path—that path that led to  _ what if we ended if neither of us made an effort?  _ Eric didn’t like the idea of fading feelings. He didn’t like the idea of losing Butters’ friendship. He didn’t like the idea of becoming strangers. Even considering Butters as one was haunting and eerie and made Eric’s skin crawl.

He didn’t dwell on it. He didn’t want Butters dwelling on it either. So when Butters squeezed him a bit tighter—probably because it was still looming in his mind—Eric whispered, “All that matters is that we’re here now. Nothing is gonna go back in time and change that. Just quit thinking about it. Go to sleep.”

Butters sighed; Eric felt it against the back of his neck. Both of them were well aware Butters wouldn’t quit thinking about it that simply. And Eric knew that monsters in the dark weren’t to be feared anymore. Invasive, unwanted thoughts were. And they were much deadlier.


	25. Physics

Throughout all of high school, Butters and Eric didn’t have too many classes together. Butters often signed up for various Honors and AP classes. Eric only did so with classes he was interested in or if he knew he’d get an easy A.

Out of all their years, though, freshman year was probably the best to not share classes. This they both agreed on. They’d still been secret during ninth grade. Being in just one shared class could have been enough to expose too much. Someone might have read between the lines of their glances or seen through their casual conversations where they held unbreaking eye contact.

During the first two months of sophomore year, they had to be careful. They shared World History and sat in a close enough proximity to talk. They rarely did, despite this. It was all due to their paranoia.

In junior year after they had been out for months, they were rewarded for a well-kept secret by having two back-to-back classes together: Culinary and Physics. The only problem with Physics was the seating chart. Eric and Butters didn’t sit next to each other. Not that that stopped them.

Their teacher was writing notes on a worksheet projected onto the screen hanging from the ceiling. The class had that same worksheet and was copying down what he was writing.

Eric had the desk in the front row right across from the sink on the counter. The only reason he wasn’t directly in front of the teacher’s desk was that even though the teacher wanted to keep an eye on him, he didn’t want to make him his responsibility by sitting him right there directly in his line of vision.

Eric stopped writing and let his head roll back. He didn’t expect so many notes in a physics class. Regular physics too. There was no way in hell he would ever take an Honors science. AP was completely off the table. With his head thrown back, he had a view of all the kids who were behind him. All of them were focused on the notes, but his eyes were drawn to that shock of white-blonde hair near the back of the classroom.

He was about to whisper Butters’ name, but he looked up anyway. As soon as their eyes met, Eric felt the corner of his lips tug upward. Butters’ lips did the same thing. When Eric broke out in a full-blown grin, Butters did too. And then they were impolitely cracking up.

The teacher stopped mid-sentence to stare at the boys until they noticed. They were quick to, but it was hard to stop laughing completely. The best they could do was bite their lips.

The teacher drawled, “Boys, you call flirt after class. I’m teaching right now.”

Butters’ jaw dropped at the same time the class burst into giggles and taunting  _ Ooh _ ’s.

Eric brushed off the comment, crossed his arms, and said, “Our  _ disruption  _ wouldn’t be an issue if we were seated next to each other.”

The teacher shot that idea down right away. “Oh, I know that wouldn’t change anything. I let you choose seats at the beginning of the year, if you recall, and I couldn’t finish my lessons because I was stopping every minute to tell you two to stop talking.”

“Just ignore us then,” Eric countered. “It’s not that hard. I do it to you all the time.”

The teacher’s face got serious. The class went dead silent. “Would you like to leave my class, then, Eric? Since you’re not listening to me anyway?”

Eric opened his mouth, about to accept the offer when Butters’ voice rose up before Eric’s could. “No, no,” he said hurriedly, “he’s fine. He’ll listen now. He’s sorry.”

The teacher glanced at Eric for confirmation. Eric glanced back at Butters and was met with a stony glare. He turned to his teacher. “What he said.”

He nodded, the situation solved. He resumed with the lesson. And Eric went back to copying notes onto his worksheet.


	26. Your name on my skin

It was a quiet Monday afternoon. The date was July sixth. Eric had turned seventeen five days ago. They were sitting on top of the covers of his made bed. Their legs were folded under them. Butters’ left arm was in Eric’s hand as he wrote in black washable marker down his skin. He was only writing two words over and over: Eric Cartman. “Eric Cartman” filling up every inch of pale skin, letters flipped and upside down, big and small, all so Eric could fit his name as many times on Butters’ arm.

They’d been doing this for an hour now. Butters’ right arm was covered in “Eric Cartman” from the top of his shoulder down to the tip of his middle finger. The upper and underside and his palm all had “Eric Cartman” scribbled over it.

Butters had never seen Eric so focused. His head was down, his bangs obscuring his eyes. His hold on Butters’ wrist was gentle as he twisted it around to begin writing on the paler, softer underside.

“If I could,” Eric said, speaking for the first time in an hour, “I’d write over every inch of your skin. But I’d spare your face. I can’t defile your stupid face even if it would have my name all over it. But only your face would be clear. The rest of you has to have my name on it.”

Butters smiled. Eric Cartman on places he couldn’t hide. Eric Cartman on places he  _ could.  _ Eric Cartman in his fingertips. Eric Cartman along his veins. Eric Cartman all over him. For all to see.


	27. Target practice

Eric was driving them up to a secluded part of the mountains. When they arrived at the spot and got out of the car, Butters watched the town in the distance, moving like an ant farm, so small and fast-paced.

“How’d you find this spot?” he asked. He turned to Eric unloading the trunk.

“I went camping here once with Stan and Kyle and Kenny. Stan’s uncle took us here.”

Butters went over to the back of the car to help. They were up here so they could practice shooting targets without startling the people of South Park with gunshots. “Even though they’re all used to it by now,” Eric had said.

Eric brought two kinds of targets. One was the standard bullseye. The other was shaped like a person. There were rings and numbers on the chest. Butters didn’t question how or why Eric had a human-shaped target.

They nailed the normal targets to tree trunks, making sure to scatter them around. Only the human target didn’t get nailed down. It was only propped up.

Eric put a hardshell briefcase on the hood of the car and undid the latches. His glock was inside of it. He picked it up to load it with bullets.

“You’ve had that gun forever,” Butters observed.

Eric shrugged. “I don’t go around showing it off. Anymore. Nobody knows that I have it.” He held the gun out to Butters. “You first.”

Butters took it from him. “Which target?”

“Start with the circle ones, I guess. It’s practice. It doesn’t really matter.”

It wasn’t easy to try to hit the bullseye, but Butters managed to do it one time. When he turned, grinning, he noticed Eric hadn’t even been watching. He was digging through the trunk looking for more magazines.

“Eric,” Butters scolded.

He looked up at the sound of his name. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

Butterflies were in Butters’ stomach when Eric put his hands on his lips so he could face him to the human target. “Try this one now.” He said it so casually. He was oblivious to the fluttering in Butters’ stomach, but he tended to forget Eric couldn’t read his mind in the first place. He was often convinced he could though.

Butters licked his lips. He raised the gun, aimed, and fired three times. When he lowered it, he was disappointed to see the bullet holes between the target’s legs.

Eric laughed. “You have good aim, you know. What with PF Chang’s and all those dickless men.”

Butters’ face flushed as he glared. Eric laughed harder. He was still standing behind Butters, so he elbowed him in the gut.

Eric’s laughter was cut off by a grunted, “Oof.”

Now it was Butters’ turn to laugh.

Eric righted himself, rubbing his stomach. He added, “You shot the same spot each time and that’s good. It’s your aim that’s off.” He put his hands on Butters’ wrists and raised the gun higher than Butters had it.

Butters could hardly pay attention. His stomach was going crazy again. All he could focus on was the way the back of his shoulders brushed the front of Eric’s shirt. And Eric’s light breath on his neck. And the way Eric was repositioning Butters’ hands on the handle of the gun. It was mesmerizing.

“That’s how you should have it,” Eric said.

At first, Butters didn’t understand what he was talking about. Then he remembered the target.

“You gotta look just above the front sight.”

“Okay.” Butters shifted his feet. He took a breath in and squeezed the trigger.

The pop of the gun left his ears ringing more so than his other shots had. He lowered it to his side. This time, he’d shot the target right in the center of the chest. He beamed.

“Aye, good job. You see? It’s all about aim,” Eric praised.

Butters playfully rolled his eyes. He handed the run to Eric. “I wanna see you do it now.”

He took the gun. “You’ve seen me fire a gun a bunch of times before though.”

“Still wanna see it,” Butters countered.

Eric shrugged and stepped up to the spot Butters had fired from. His motions were fluid and smooth. It was obvious he was experienced in handling a gun.

Butters wondered if he would be willing to handle him like that in the car later.

He cocked it back and leveled it with his line of vision. He didn’t hesitate as he fired round after round.

When his gun made clicking sounds that indicated an empty magazine, he put the safety on and lowered it. Both of them inspected the target. There were so many bullet holes in the head that it made up one big hole the size of a quarter.

Bluntly, Butters commented, “Well, if I have an aptitude for crotch-shots, you’ve got one for headshots.”

Eric chuckled in amusement. He didn’t refute it. They were both extremely aware of the truth in Butters’ statement. Right at that moment, Butters had never wanted him more.


	28. Stolen stares

It was hard. Keeping a secret from the entire world was undoubtedly _hard._ Especially when the secret was being kept from Butters and Eric’s closest friends.

They were fifteen at Stan’s house, playing board games on the coffee table in the middle of the living room. They were all laughing at Eric’s misfortune. He wasn’t very good at Monopoly. Eric was sneering at the board like he was tempted to swipe his arm across the table to end the game.

It was at that moment when his eyes met Butters’. Eric swore he felt the air between them lurch. He had difficulty looking away even as he became hyper-aware of Stan next to him. And Kenny next to Buttes. And Kyle at the head of the table. Their laughter was slowly dying out.

Eric looked away before they could notice.

Butters hid his smile by looking down at the board in front of him. It was his turn anyway.

For the duration of the game, Butters’ and Eric’s eyes continued to unintentionally meet. As soon as the game ended, Eric got up and marched into the kitchen. The others assumed it was just Cartman being a sore loser, but Butters caught the glance Eric shot him before disappearing past the doorway.

Butters let Eric remain in the kitchen alone for a few minutes so the others wouldn’t get suspicious as to why he was following Eric.

In the kitchen, Eric was leaning against the counter as he took sips from his Sprite can. Butters opened a water bottle but didn’t drink it. He looked at Eric. Eric looked at him. And then they were kissing. Butters stuck his hand under Eric’s shirt and Eric held him by the small of his back, even with the Sprite can still in his hand.

Kissing like this—with their friends in the other room—was a big risk, but it somehow didn’t matter the way it usually did. The danger of getting caught made it all the more thrilling.

And they almost did get caught. Butters recognized Kenny’s voice getting closer to the kitchen. They pulled apart at the speed of light. Butters stepped three feet away from Eric at the other end of the counter. He picked up a cookie and quickly shoved it into his mouth.

Kenny walked in and grabbed a can of soda from the fridge. Telling from the easy smile on his face, he suspected nothing. “Hurry your asses back to the living room. We’re gonna play Twenty-one now.” He left without a glance back.

Butters and Eric were still frozen in their spots. They were lightheaded. Their lips were tingling. Their hearts were hammering behind their ribs. Yet they traded a small, knowing smile before they went into the living room and assumed their previous positions across from each other.


	29. Twice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _south park,_ s23e4, "let them eat goo"

Even the waiting room of the hospital smelled like cleaning chemicals. Butters was there with Kenny, Stan, and Kyle. Unlike the other boys who were sitting with nonchalance, Butters was playing with his hands. Cracking his knuckles. Rubbing them together. Twisting his fingers. He couldn’t sit still. And how could he? After all that happened today, how could he be still?

They were in the waiting room for the OK to see Cartman. They wanted to see how he was holding up after his first heart attack.

Finally, after what felt like forever, a nurse told the boys they could visit Cartman now.

Butters was on his feet first, following the nurse closer than the other three.

In the room, Eric was sitting up and eating yogurt. He looked at them and jutted his chin a greeting nod. “Sup, guys,” he said. Like he wasn’t sitting in a hospital bed in a blue gown with a plastic bracelet around his wrist.

“How are you doing, Cartman?” Stan asked.

Eric shrugged. “I feel fine. I’m mostly still pissed about the lunch change.”

Kyle snorted quietly but made no further comment.

Butters noticed Eric’s mom sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. She was fiddling with the handle of her purse. When she caught Butters staring, she stopped and tried for a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Butters turned his attention back on Eric. He was finished with his yogurt. He put the cup on the tray next to his bed as he licked off the spoon.

Stan, Kenny, and Kyle approached the bed to start a conversation with Eric. Butters trailed after them, but the lump in his throat prevented him from participating. Eric was talking and moving and acting like he really  _ was  _ fine, and Butters didn’t doubt he was since that was how it always had been with him. He got injured—badly or not—but he didn’t let that hold him back, as he was on his feet within a few hours. Eric would be fine.

But then it happened again. And this one, from what Butters was hearing, was worse than the first.

This made returning to class after lunch especially hard for Butters. He was fidgety. He couldn’t focus on his work. He felt like he’d burst into tears at any moment.

His teacher noticed and sent him to the counselor. When Butters confessed his anxieties, Mr. Mackey called Butters’ mother to pick him up.

Butters waited in front of the school for his mom’s car. When it pulled up, he climbed into the backseat. Before even putting on his seatbelt, he asked, “Mom? Can you please take me to the hospital? I wanna see how Eric’s doin’.”

Linda’s hands slid down the wheel as she sighed. “Butters, I have to be back at work in half an hour.”

“That’s good enough,” Butters said quickly. In a softer voice, he mumbled, “I just wanna make sure he’s okay.”

Linda sighed again. She slowed out of the school parking lot. “Fine. Thirty minutes. That’s all you get. If you’re not in the car by then, I’m leaving without you and you’ll have to find some other way home,” she warned.

“I understand.” He was relieved she was going to let him visit Eric in the first place.

At the front desk, the receptionist told him only immediate family was allowed in for now, but visiting hours should open up in a few minutes.

Butters sat down and prayed “a few minutes” meant five minutes and not an hour.

He was alone in the waiting room this time. No Stan or Kyle or Kenny there to distract him. He pulled his legs up onto the chair and hugged his knees to his chest. He took three deep breaths in, three deep breaths out. It didn’t do well fighting off the stinging behind his eyes. So he pressed his face into his knees and continued to hold back tears.

With his eyes closed, it was like he was reliving it all over again. Eric yelling at the girls. His labored breathing. Then him clutching the spot on his gown that was right over his heart. Butters feeling like there was nothing he could do. That everyone wasn’t doing  _ enough.  _ Then Eric reaching for him. Butters trying to soften his fall by holding him back. Eric’s barbeque sauce-covered fingers grasping Butters’ face as he went down, begging to not let him die.

Butters took a gasping breath in. He told himself to think about something else. But his mind was only letting him flash back to the pure terror in Eric’s eyes right before he passed out.

“Excuse me?”

Butters looked up. The same nurse as last time stood before him.

“You can come see Eric Cartman now.”

Butters followed her to Eric’s room. She opened the door for him and left. Butters hesitated before going in. He couldn’t help but wonder if Eric was even alive. The nurse hinted at nothing. And it couldn’t be good for someone to have two heart attacks so close together.

He bottled his nerves and went inside. At first, he wanted to wail. His lips were parted and a scream was climbing up his throat, but then Liane, sitting next to the bed, said, “Oh, no, he’s fine. He’s only sleeping. He’s sleeping. See?” She pointed to the heart monitor that was steadily beeping.

Butters swallowed his scream, hiccupping in relief, and rushed to Eric’s bedside.

Up close, he could see Eric’s eyes moving behind his lids. His fingers were twitching.  _ I was afraid you weren’t gonna make it _ floated around Butters’ head, but he didn’t allow the words to leave his mouth.

Liane sniffled. Butters realized she was crying. She was petting Eric’s arm and gazing at his sleeping face.

Butters suddenly felt guilty. His mind was cruel, reminding him of that time he was at the water park with his friends, and once the dust settled and Eric reunited with them unscathed, Butters commented—practically complained—about how Eric survived. And now he was standing in this hospital room glad Eric survived.

But that was when Butters was quietly resentful of Eric because of all the nonconsensual schemes he used to rope him into. Lately, though, Eric disclosed all his plans, and Butters was always willing to be included. Through that and everything else, they’d really become friends.

The doctor entered the room. His eyes remained on Butters for a second. But then he said, “Ms. Cartman, if you please?” He motioned for her to come out into the hall. Likely so they could talk about Eric without Butters overhearing.

Liane wiped her tears away with her fingers. She got up and left the room. The doctor closed the door behind her.

Alone with Eric, Butters loosely took his hand. Considering all the other times he’d visited Eric in the hospital, he knew he’d want him to hold his hand.

Like it was instinct, in his sleep, Eric’s fingers curled just a bit more securely around Butters’.

Butters let out a shaky sigh. Eric was going to be fine. Nothing was going to stop him. Ever.

There was a clock in the room, and Butters glanced at the time. He had less than five minutes left. Had he really been waiting for that long?

He remembered his mom in the parking lot. She would be leaving without him soon if he wasn’t down there in the car. He should tell Liane and Eric goodbye. Not that Eric would hear it.

He glanced down at Eric. Sleeping. Holding his hand. And Butters was suddenly fine with his mom leaving without him. He could walk home. What really mattered right now was being here when Eric woke up and saw him and knew he wasn’t alone.


	30. Summer runs

Butters grit his teeth as he tried to drag Eric out of bed. He was shirtless, laying on his stomach, face buried in his pillow, pulling the blankets out with him all because he wouldn’t get up on his own.

“C’mon, Eric. Get up,” Butters whined.

“No,” Eric whined back.

_ “Yes,” _ Butters responded. “Let’s  _ go.  _ The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we’ll be back and eating breakfast.”

Eric was silent. “I’ll get up if  _ you _ make breakfast.”

Butters groaned. “Fine.”

Eric stuck up his pinkie. Butters rolled his eyes and wrapped his around Eric’s.

Eric sat up. “Grab my shirt.”

Butters picked up Eric’s discarded shirt off the floor. He flung it at his face. He turned and called over his shoulder, “Meet you outside.”

Eric groaned in response.

Once they were both jogging down the sidewalk, Eric grumbled, “Why the hell do we even have to do this? And every other morning too.”

Butters let out a breathless laugh. “We’ve done this since the summer we were sixteen. You should be used to it by now.”

Eric huffed. “Well I’m not.” He paused to breathe. He hated talking and running. It made him more tired. And he hated how this problem didn’t apply to Butters. “I’m healthy now though. This is as skinny as I’m gonna get without barfing up everything I eat or getting lipo. I’m naturally… beefy.”

Butters grinned. “Yeah. I know you’re a big boy. Gettin’ you skinny isn’t why I make you do this though.”

Eric didn’t reply right away. He kept his eyes fixated ahead. They were nearing their old elementary school now. Then they would go into Stark’s Pond and run along the dirt path that circled the perimeter. Sometimes, if Butters was feeling cruel, he would lead them closer to Maphesto’s and branch off down the path to Skeeter’s Bar rather than exiting at the church.

Eric had a feeling that Butters would run them up to Skeeter’s today because he made him promise to get breakfast, and making them run further was his revenge.

From Skeeter’s, they’d keep running straight until they got to the Micro Brew, run down past the police station, keep straight, then turn right into Eric’s neighborhood. And once they were back at the house, the torture would end.

Eric could envision it so vividly. That’s how often they did this stupid run. He wished he could add “useless” into that thought, but he knew that would make it untrue. He knew why Butters made him run. And, at the very least and only bright side, it was long-distance and not sprinting. That was something to be grateful for.

He finally spoke up, “You don’t have to worry about another heart attack, you know.” He said it softly, like saying the words any louder would debunk them.

He studied Butters’ face after saying it, looking for any emotion that statement might evoke. Butters’ eyes lost focus. The corners of his lips fell just a little bit. “I know,” he said absently, “but it’s still a good habit to have.”

Eric pursed his lips. He knew that those two heart attacks he had as a kid haunted Butters from time to time. That was the real reason he wanted Eric to go running with him. So even if Eric hated it, he didn’t gripe about it all day because he knew Butters was doing all this out of love for him, because he  _ cared.  _ Eric couldn’t complain about that.


	31. Everything is you

Eric lived in Butters’ mind rent-free. It was on days like this—grounded summer Thursdays—when everything Butters saw, smelled, heard, tasted, touched reminded him of Eric.

Butters’ waking thought had been _Oh, yeah. I’m grounded. No Eric for the next two days._ Then he checked the time—twenty minutes to ten—and swung his legs over the side of his bed. He stood to stretch, and as he was rubbing away the blurriness in his eyes, he caught sight of one of Eric’s red hoodies draped over the back of his desk chair. He picked it up, realizing it was the one with the little devil horns stitched onto the hood.

Feeling the soft cotton of the thread in his hands, he flashed back to a school day in May. Eric had taken off his hoodie and handed it to Butters to hold, so he tied it around his waist even though they were a secret no one knew about, and having Eric’s hoodie tied around his waist would be suspicious.

Butters set it on his bedpost for when he wasn’t grounded anymore and he’d be able to return it to Eric.

Once he left the bathroom after brushing his teeth, he caught the sweet aroma of pancakes cooking on the stove. A jolt of curiosity shot through him. He hurried downstairs.

In the kitchen, his mother was standing in front of the stove, flipping pancakes over. She heard him enter and glanced at him over her shoulder. With her spatula, she gestured to the plate of already-done-and-warm pancakes next to her. “Come get some,” she said.

Butters exhaled. His mom hadn’t made him breakfast in two years.

Excited, he grabbed a plate from the cupboard and took four pancakes for himself. He slathered them in butter then drowned them in syrup.

As he wolfed down his breakfast, he remembered the time Eric made him pancakes as a surprise. It wasn’t his birthday or anything, but Eric still did it.

Linda sat across from Butters, slowly eating her own pancakes. She put nothing on hers but a small amount of syrup. She said, “I have to get to work soon, but your chores are on the fridge. Make sure you do them before your father and I get home.” She fixed him with a pointed look that made him go still. “And no leaving the house or having anyone over. We _will_ find out. So don’t even think about it,” she warned.

Butters nodded. “I understand.” He also understood that his parents likely had a hidden camera facing the front door.

“Good.”

The kitchen was silent after that.

The list of chores he had to complete was the same every week. He always started with washing the dishes and loading them into the dishwasher. He was scrubbing off syrup stuck to his plate. His body was on autopilot so his mind wandered.

He was standing in the kitchen doing dishes just like this, but there was one difference. Eric was there, and suddenly, he was at Butters’ side, picking up a clean bowl and stuck it into the dishwasher.

Butters had been taken by so much surprise he had to stop what he was doing to watch.

Eric glanced at him, question in his face. “What?”

Butters stammered. “You—you don’t gotta help me.”

Eric shrugged. “If I help you, the sooner you’ll be done and we can go back to your room. It’s no big deal.”

But it was. Eric never did chores without being sternly ordered to.

Once the dishes were done, Butters went into the garage to get the mop. Since he was home alone, he put on some music to listen to while he worked. He mumbled to most songs that played.

He couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of the sound of Eric singing along to “Poker Face.” He loved that song, listened to it at least once a day. Butters heard it so often that he was almost obligated to add it to his own playlist.

Butters’ next chore was to vacuum the carpet in the living room. Over the noise of it, he couldn’t hear his music. It didn’t matter. His mind was elsewhere.

 _Eric’s probably playin’ video games with Kenny, Stan, and Kyle right about now. He’s probably yellin’ at ‘em ‘cause of somethin’,_ Butters thought dreamily.

He took a break after vacuuming to open up the book he was in the middle of. All the cussing reminded him of Eric’s dirty mouth.

For lunch, Butters had leftover spaghetti from last night’s dinner. Eric liked his spaghetti with lots of sauce and parmesan cheese, and he always picked around the spaghetti squash his mom added in.

Polishing the glass, Butters imagined Eric lounged out comfortably on his couch as he jumped between the many colorful apps on his phone, always returning to his messages with Butters but never texting because he knew Butters wouldn’t be able to respond anyway.

Dusting the furniture, he hoped Eric had thought of him at least once today.

Cleaning the bathroom, he was taken back to Eric fresh out of the shower, pulling a shirt over his head, his hair wet and wavy, the sight of it all leaving Butters breathless.

Butters was putting away all of the bottles of chemicals and worn brushes when he heard the lock on the front door come undone. He went downstairs, where his father was taking off his shoes.

“Hi, Dad,” Butters greeted.

“Did you finish your chores?” Stephen asked, not bothering to say hi back.

“Just now.”

Stephen looked Butters over before nodding in approval.

In the short hours before Linda came home, Butters had free time. He spent it up in his room, just in case Stephen was irritable from work, although he didn’t seem to be today. Still, Butters didn’t want to risk it. He sat at his desk to work on some of his summer homework.

At dinner, sitting quietly with his parents, Butters recalled how lively and loud dinner at Eric’s was. There was always overlapping chatter and laughter. It was never quiet at their dinner table.

It was one of those rare nights when Butters and his parents all silently agreed to watch a movie together. Watching the movie on the living room couch was just dinner repeated: quiet. There wasn’t any talking. Only short laughter where it was appropriate.

Butters pretended his parents weren’t there. He focused on the movie, investing himself in the plot, setting, and characters. So it only made sense when the guarded bad boy who only opened up and was sweet to his love interest reminded Butters of Eric. He couldn’t help smiling a little when he pictured Eric saying the character’s lines.

When the movie ended, it was ten o’clock. Butters went up to the bathroom to wash up for bed. As he ran his toothbrush over his teeth, he thought about how Eric wouldn’t be going to sleep until well into midnight. Ten o’clock was early for him.

Butters laid in bed, squeezing his pillow to his face. He was tired from all of his chores. Sleep found him easily. Even with drowsiness clinging to him, ready to claim him, he had enough mind to wonder if Eric would dream of him tonight.


	32. Hidden away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is just a reworked combination of two chapters from this other story i had written a few years ago. i deleted that one, though, because i disliked it so much. i've wanted this moment separated from that story since lhwr, so i finally did it.

Eric’s hushed order for Butters to stay rung through his mind as he dried his hands after washing them. Clyde had just left, but not before whispering to Butters that he knew why he was still lingering in the bathroom. As soon as he was gone, Eric emerged from the stall he had locked himself in. Butters watched him wash and dry his hands, the force of the air coming from the loud dryer flinging all the droplets to the tiled floor.

When the dryer lessened to a silence, Butters expected Eric’s desperate kiss to collide with him. It never came.

Instead, he put his lips close to Butters’, never touching, like there was a war going on in his head making him freeze in place. If one of them were to speak, their lips would brush. Butters felt his heart ache with a yearning for the familiar weight of Eric’s kiss. His warm, damp hands came to a rest on Butters’ cheeks. His thumbs rubbed his jaw. And he finally kissed him. Butters anticipated it to be devouring and hungry telling from the look in his eyes, but it was a sweet one--Butters’ favorite kind.

Right as it was getting good, Eric drew back. Butters ready to pull him in for more when he let go haltingly.

“Eric—” Butters started.

Eric shook his head, hand sliding down to Butters’, fingers interlocking. Butters thought he would be led out of the bathroom, his hand dropped once they crossed the threshold.

He thought wrong.

He was dragged into a stall with the door locked behind him where Eric could lay into a deeper, intimate kiss in private.

It was completely ruined when someone walked in.

They left the bathroom in a rush, desperate to not be noticed. As they dodged bypassers to get to the ride all their friends were waiting at, the backs of their hands constantly brushed. Inwardly, Butters longed for him to take his hand, but he didn’t of course.

But he did something more shocking. He leaned to Butters, lips ghosting over the spot under his ear as he whispered so quietly it’s almost swept away by the crowds, “I love you, B-Butts.”

Butters’ breath escaped his lungs. His heart took its place in his throat, pounding like a drum. Or maybe that was just the performers they were passing.

Before Butters could say anything—since he was unsure if he was supposed to hear the utterance at all—Eric trudged ahead, hands deep in the pockets of his shorts, shoulders hunched up to his ears.

As they waited in line to board the ride, they held taunting banter with their friends. In the middle of it, Eric linked his pinkie through Butters’. It seemed he couldn’t get enough of him today, and Butters didn’t know how much more of the touches he could take before saying  _ To hell with all of this  _ and wrapping his arms around Eric and kissing him and mumbling  _ I love you _ against his mouth over and over again for all their friends to witness.

But he didn’t. Because he knew the consequences, and he was afraid of them.

At two in the morning, the boys were still awake, lying in bed together with Butters’ head on Eric’s chest, tracing the words of his shirt. Eric wasn’t particularly tired, but he didn’t feel like doing anything except stare at his ceiling.

“Eric,” Butters whispered.

“What?” he whispered back.

Butters shifted up higher on Eric to bury his face in his neck. “Back at Universal Studios, when we were leaving the bathroom at Harry Potter World…” His words faded to a hesitant silence.

“What?” Eric urged.

Butters’ voice was barely a whisper. He distractedly tapped on Eric’s shoulder as he said, “When we were leaving the bathroom, I—I thought I heard you say that you… you loved me?”

“Yes. What’s your question?”

Butters’ head popped up, looking down at him with eyes the size of plates. “You—you meant it? You love me?”

“Of course I fucking do, dumbass.” He said it with less arrogance and hostility than he intended. He said it too soft and quiet and  _ vulnerable.  _ “I know in fifth grade I swore I’d never fall in love, but—don’t even fucking think about telling Kyle this—but he was right. I  _ can’t  _ choose when I’m gonna fall in love, or with who—”

Butters melted into a smile when he kissed him. He mumbled against his mouth, “I love you too.”

And that was all.

His head fell back to Eric’s chest, eyes shut as his face continued to smile.

While Butters drifted to sleep, Eric laid there thinking, thinking, thinking of how far he’d come from fifth grade when he swore he would never fall in love, with his hands beneath Butters’ shirt. Telling Butters he loved him had been on the tip of his tongue for months, but for some reason, being hidden away in that bathroom with him gave him enough courage to finally confess. And maybe it was the knowledge that Butters wouldn’t be able to address the confession with their friends around that gave Eric a false sense of security in case Butters didn’t feel the same.

But he did.  It was all Eric could ever want.


	33. Light pink sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [it's nice to have a friend // taylor swift](https://youtu.be/eaP1VswBF28)

Eric was twelve and Butters was thirteen in the December four months away from Liane and Roger’s wedding. The end-of-the-day bell rang, dismissing the middle schoolers for the week. Kids ran for the bus stop, all eager to claim their favorite seats before anyone else could. Butters and his friends were one of the crowd, sprinting for the bus, weaving in and out between kids who were blocking their path.

Standing in the aisle, Butters briskly searched for a place to sit. Kyle and Stan dropped down to their usual spot in the very back. Kenny grabbed the last remaining middle seat, where Butters decided to sit next to him before anyone else could. Eric was up at the front of the bus, dragging a kid by the collar of his shirt out of what he dubbed “his seat”. The kid was clearly annoyed to be evicted of the spot he rightfully claimed, but he said nothing as he squeezed in with another kid.

The drive home was loud as usual. Butters envied the kids with earbuds, peacefully listening to their music and staring out the window as they envisioned scenarios as the world rushed by in a blur. It was easier to imagine things when the volume of the bus could be easily blocked out by the bass of a good song. Unfortunately, Butters’ earbuds were currently broken and his parents definitely wouldn’t be willing to buy him new ones. And showing up to school wearing headphones would be embarrassing. Instead, he talked to Kenny, which was just as good as any earbuds were at blocking out the racket.

Once the bus reached their stop, the boys hopped off, relieved to finally be away from school for the next few days. Kenny dropped back to join the conversation Stan and Kyle were having about trying out for ice hockey next year. Butters by default caught up with Eric not far ahead. But Eric had a pinched scowl on his face, and Butters knew better than to try to start a lively conversation when he wore an expression like that. He kept his eyes on the sidewalk. Pink and blue chalk drawings were covered up by snow slumped off from the grass. A smiling sun and a leafy green tree were the only things visible. Everything else was buried under the dirty, bootprint-covered snow.

A gust of wind blew through their coats. It sent chills down Butters’ arms, despite him wearing two jackets. His exposed skin was numb from the cold. He needed to bring a scarf and a hat if the weather remained like this next week.

He reached into his pockets for his gloves, since he had those with him. When he pulled them out, his heart dropped seeing one was missing.

He halted, swinging off his backpack to frantically rifle through it, hoping the other would be buried at the bottom somewhere.

“What are you doing?” Eric had stopped walking too. His eyebrows were pinched instead of his scowl, which wasn’t there anymore.

“I—I can’t find my other glove! If I go home with only one, my parents’ll ground me for losin’ it and bein’ irresponsible and forgetful!” he yelped.

Not a flutter of emotion crossing Eric’s blank face.

Butters expected him to spit something sarcastic about what an Earth-shattering dilemma that was. But instead, he took off the yellow glove keeping his left hand warm and held it out to Butters.

Butters took it hesitantly, not understanding what Eric was doing. He stayed crouched in front of his open backpack staring at the glove like he had no idea what to do with it. And he _didn’t_ know what to do with it.

“Well?” Eric narrowed his eyes at Butters. “Have you never seen a glove before? Put it on and get your ass up. Stan, Kyle, and Kenny have already passed us.” He zipped his jacket up to his chin and tugged his hat low over his ears. “It’s goddamn freezing out here.”

Butters hastily stood, sticking his hand into his glove, then Eric’s. Eric’s was warm at the palm and a little too big at the fingertips, but his fingers didn’t feel like they would fall off anymore.

They resumed walking, not bothering to catch up to the other three.

And maybe it was intentional, because then Eric asked, “Wanna hang out?”

“Yeah. Sounds like fun,” Butters accepted. He would have to text his parents so they would know where he’d be, but he was almost positive they wouldn’t care if they knew where he was or not.

At Eric’s, they played video games in his living room. Butters didn’t have as many consoles as Eric did, so he took full advantage when he was invited over. Compared to his house, Eric’s place was an arcade wonderland.

After two hours straight of nonstop video games, they took a break to get snacks. Butters was back on the couch already playing again. He and Eric were at the point of their friendship where they walked around each other’s houses like they lived there. Eric joined after finding a new bag of Cheesy Poofs. He picked up his controller, but before he started to play, he passed Butters a note.

 _You should sleep over,_ it said.

Telling from a glance, Eric was purposely avoiding eye contact by focusing on the TV.

“I’ll ask my parents.”

Eric just nodded silently.

Butters’ parents’ replies came quick. His mother’s was a clipped _Fine._ His father’s was a scathing _Don’t expect me or your mom to drop off clothes since this is so last minute._

As if they weren’t one door down. If they wouldn’t come to bring him clothes, he wouldn’t go over to get some.

“I can stay,” Butters told Eric. He knew he should be more excited, but he couldn’t muster it up with his parents’ responses staring right back at him. And their refusal to really care.

“Good,” was all Eric had to say anyway. He didn’t sound too enthusiastic, but when Butters looked over, he caught Eric’s shoulders slump in relief.

They played for only fifteen minutes more before growing bored. Eric asked Liane where the camping tent was. As soon as she told him it was in the garage, Eric urged Butters to help him find it.

They set it up on Eric’s bedroom floor, tying the guylines to the posts of his bed and the legs of his desk. Their tent was droopy and slanted, but it didn’t have to be perfect, since they were cozy within four walls anyway. Inside, they spread out blankets and propped up pillows so they would be comfortable for when they slept.

Once dinner of chicken and pasta ended, Eric lent Butters a shirt to sleep in.

Butters was able to stay all through the day the morning after waking. It was evening now, and his parents still hadn’t demanded him home, so he didn’t bother leaving on his own will.

The light pink sky was slipping away too quickly. Butters and Eric were up on the roof watching the transition of warm colors fade into cool night. At least, Butters was. Eric was fixated on the house across the street.

He suddenly broke the serene silence to say, “I’ve been stressed out lately.”

And he left it off at that. Fortunately for him, Butters knew what he was referencing. He was stressed out because the wedding between Liane and Roger, Clyde’s dad, was approaching too soon. Eric’s mom had never been married before. He was stressed because—even though he never mentioned it—once Liane and Roger were married, she and Eric would move into Clyde’s house in the neighborhood one over. And that meant he could no longer deny Clyde was his stepbrother and Roger his stepdad. It was all so different and stressful, and Butters understood.

Softly, he said, “Yeah, me too.” His parents and all that was his source of stress. They hardly spoke to him anymore, much less made eye contact when they did. He didn’t know what he had done to deserve it, but he knew whatever it was, it was his fault.

Something gave Eric the nerve to touch his hand. Eric’s fingertips rested gently on his knuckles. It was Butters who took Eric’s hand in his own, risking as far as to lace their fingers together. He knew it was okay when Eric didn’t pull away and shout at him. Conversely, Eric’s grip became more secure and solid.

Not meeting Butters’ gaze, he mumbled, “It’s nice to have a friend.”


End file.
